tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65333433609154335592018-03-02T11:37:54.987-05:00Literacy Farm......an anagram for "Carter Family".... in the hopes that each of you who visits this site enjoys reading the ongoing tales of our family... (hey, I'm a teacher at heart, and reading specialist, to boot) and the farm part, well.... I can't help but feel the words of a wise person are true: "Raising children is like being pecked to death by chickens."Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.comBlogger362125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-18781690918012166292016-12-01T21:40:00.005-05:002016-12-01T21:40:51.766-05:00Gifts and Advent<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wrote this piece for our church's newsletter. I sat down at a blank computer screen, and the words came pouring out on the page.... and I realized that too often, I quiet my Voice. And two, I am surrounded by Gifts.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">***********</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Advent is a new beginning, a new year in our church calendar. &nbsp;Advent speaks powerfully to me, ever since Aidan was very young and I witnessed him arranging, then rearranging, the characters in his chunky, child-sized nativity scene: there is nothing to capture one’s attention more completely than a child retelling the story of Jesus’ birth. &nbsp;When he was two years old, I was listening to him deliver the good news that the Angel Gabriel spoke to Mary. &nbsp;In that instant, I recognized a most fitting middle name for the second son we were expecting, Leo Gabriel, as he was our “good news” baby. &nbsp;Witnessing how intently Pax listened to the secular yet beloved “Little Drummer Boy,” I marveled at how humbled we are in Christ’s presence, at times prepared with only the simplest of offerings. &nbsp;Last year, I was smitten with Mary, and the faith she had in God, for her strength and dignity and grace. &nbsp;Despite the predictable return of Advent each year, I am still struck by how God reveals God’s self in unique and powerful ways, again and again. &nbsp;</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This year, I am focused on the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">gift </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that we celebrate come Advent: the gift of the tiny baby Jesus, delivered to the world as a helpless and mewling newborn. &nbsp;I am amazed by this tiny child, and what He did for our world. &nbsp;And it leads me to think very much about the gifts we have in our own congregation, the gifts our children and youth bring to our faith family. &nbsp;</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Like many of you, I watch with wonder and marvel as the youngest in our congregation gather around the chancel steps, to hear the children’s message, and later, to receive the body and blood of Christ at the communion table. &nbsp;I listen to their questions, breathtaking in their complexity, joyful in their simplicity. &nbsp;I watch their tiny, solemn hands raise up to meet the pastor’s hands, delivering bread; the chalice bearer’s hands, delivering wine. &nbsp;Week after week, I watch the children; they return me to solid ground. &nbsp;They reveal to me the mystery of Christ within us. &nbsp;In their sweet, unknowing, hopeful faces, they reveal all that is good in this world, all that we may hope to do for them. &nbsp;I watch the way they run with abandon in the sanctuary, not yet recognizing the space as Holy Ground, or perhaps, better still - recognizing at once, and allowing their feet to dance across it joyfully. &nbsp;I’ve marveled at the draw of the simple mosaic stained glass windows that line both sides of the sanctuary - a mere $10 at time of purchase&nbsp;- for the joy they have brought nearly every child who has entered into our sacred space of worship. &nbsp;I witness beautiful moments between parent and child in church - a lingering hug; a meaningful look that passes; a calming embrace around a child’s shoulder; a long lap snuggle during the sermon; a soundly sleeping infant in arms - made more beautiful in the context of worship. &nbsp;Our children, our gifts. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I watch as our older children have grown into the acolyte robes they coveted wearing as youngsters. &nbsp;I witness their solemn devotion to bearing the cross, offering the chalice, week after week. I listen as they offer up their gifts of music, of the readings of the Word during worship, of a welcome extended at the church’s front door, the laughter they share with one another in the narthex and hallways and rooms of our church building. &nbsp;I watch as they guide their young peers into getting apple juice at the snack table, or helping them climb a ladder to hang an ornament on the tree just before Christmas. &nbsp;I see how they act as role models, being kind and loving and open, unique and independent, being engaged in community with our faith family. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In youth group and Sunday School, I witness our youth grapple with difficult questions about life and faith. &nbsp;I watch them confront challenges and face obstacles, offering help to one another, acting as both leaders and followers. &nbsp;I listen to their prayers, hear their joys and sorrows, their worries and fears, their gratitudes and deepest desires. &nbsp;During service projects, I marvel as they serve with accepting and loving hearts, wanting to affect change to the marginalized in our immediate community and beyond. &nbsp;&nbsp;</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Time and time again, I see the face of Christ in our young people. &nbsp;So often, they are my Godsights - moments so powerfully filled with God’s presence that they are sightings of God. &nbsp;This Advent season, as I reflect on the gift of the baby Jesus to the world, so too do I connect with the gift of all children, and especially the children and youth of our congregation - and I am filled with such deep gratitude for them all. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-0f1af4b2-bd61-485f-7ca4-8e8a547ec169"></span><br /><div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we prepare to welcome the baby Jesus into our hearts again this season, let us also celebrate the children and youth of this congregation: the wonder and newness of them; the joy they bring, and the richness they provide our faith family.</span></div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-83478147883909070132016-11-12T20:49:00.001-05:002016-11-12T20:49:53.915-05:00Cornucopia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vl3z6Ggk0bk/WCfGsIMcPeI/AAAAAAAAD0M/c6HzXrWvA8E-VnGzkBeZAYjS6WONFOHBwCLcB/s1600/20161111_210012019_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vl3z6Ggk0bk/WCfGsIMcPeI/AAAAAAAAD0M/c6HzXrWvA8E-VnGzkBeZAYjS6WONFOHBwCLcB/s320/20161111_210012019_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />My high school Latin teacher taught me that a "cornucopia" is a "horn of plenty." <br /><br />As we sat around our table tonight after dinner, I could not help but feel - but know - that this was a year of plenty. &nbsp;That we are blessed with more than enough. &nbsp;That we are so damn lucky. <br /><br />Since the beginning of time, or at least the beginning of having children who could doodle or draw or write, I've been creating trees of thanksgiving, or banners of thanks, or wreaths of gratitude. &nbsp;This year, we sat down after dinner, ready to fill out our leaves of thanks after a very, very tough week, both personally and in the bigger world. <br /><br />The leaves that fill our wreath of plenty include the following:<br /><br />I am thankful for unexpected kindness (Aidan Paul, AP)<br />My house. &nbsp;(Pax, P)<br />The Obamas (Anne, AC)<br />I am thankful for food on the table (Leo, L)<br />I am thankful for the great outdoors (AP)<br />Electricity! (P)<br />Music (AP)<br />I am grateful for Mrs. Muddiman (P)<br />Our church family... the kids whom I teach and whom I love, fiercely. &nbsp;My youth group kids. (AC)<br />I'm thankful for unikspektit (unexpected) notes (P)<br />I am thankful for God's grace. (AP)<br />Food (P)<br />I'm &nbsp;happy we are smart people. (L)<br />I am grateful for Doctors and nurses like Dr. Mason and Dr. Smyth that keep us healthy. (AP)<br />I am grateful for health and safety and happiness. &nbsp;We are abundantly lucky in all of these areas... I am SO grateful. (AC)<br />Klintine. &nbsp;(Clinton - P)<br />I'm grateful that we have awesome grandparents. &nbsp;(L)<br />I'm thankful for diversity (AP)<br />I am so grateful for my friends and colleagues at Burnley Moran: &nbsp;such smart, compassionate, wise, and funny women. &nbsp;I love you all. (AC)<br />I am thankful for people teaching me my grilling expertise (AP)<br />Our fire pit and fire place. &nbsp;(P)<br />I am thankful for the schools. &nbsp;(AP)<br />All of the students whom I teach... all of my colleagues and co-workers. (AC)<br />All my friends near and far. &nbsp;Benny close and Conner and Patrick far. &nbsp;(L)<br />School! (P)<br />I'm grateful for the unconditional, undeserved love from God. &nbsp;For grace, mercy, forgiveness, peace. (AC)<br />I am thankful for friends that always have your back. (AP)<br />I love our community and network of friends. &nbsp;Our village loves and cares for us all so much. &nbsp;(AC)<br />I am thankful for the wonderful house I live in. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I am thankful for all my teachers who teach me, whether in school or not. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I am grateful for the family dinners with Grandma and Grandpa, the trails that lead to their home, and so much more.... (AC)<br />I am thankful for the beautiful state of Virginia. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I am thankful for the wildlife. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I am thankful for my trumpet. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I am thankful that Grandma and Grandpa live so close by. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I am thankful for Leo, Pax, and Mom. &nbsp;(AP)<br />I'm thankful for my bruthers. &nbsp;(P)<br />I'm thankful that I have the BEST MOM EVER!! &nbsp;And brothers. &nbsp;(L)<br />I am so DEEP DOWN GRATEFUL for my three sons. &nbsp;I love you to the ends of the earth, Aidan, Leo, and Pax. &nbsp;(AC)<br /><br />I am grateful for music, laughter, food, wine, beer, ocean waves, birds at sunset. &nbsp;Coffee in the morning. &nbsp;Sunrises. &nbsp;Unexpected hugs. &nbsp;Compliments. &nbsp;Friendships: &nbsp;new, renewed, old, and everything in between. &nbsp;Kindness. &nbsp;Thoughtfulness. &nbsp;Surprise. &nbsp;Love. &nbsp;Vulnerability. &nbsp;Grit. &nbsp;Forgiveness. &nbsp;New paths. &nbsp;The Journey. The memories. &nbsp;The tomorrows. &nbsp;And You. &nbsp;(AC)Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-39201096380319643002016-11-01T22:04:00.000-04:002016-11-01T22:06:37.638-04:00Halloween 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BN-jtGrg8fk/WBlFSTgbLeI/AAAAAAAADzQ/QO8MWZjtddM466vpotNU5zNwNSTe71AowCEw/s1600/20161031_224349000_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BN-jtGrg8fk/WBlFSTgbLeI/AAAAAAAADzQ/QO8MWZjtddM466vpotNU5zNwNSTe71AowCEw/s320/20161031_224349000_iOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Aidan, Leo, and Pax had an absolutely *wonderful* Halloween night. &nbsp;My mom was in charge of their costumes, and the kids enjoyed working with her on them. &nbsp;Aidan dressed as Legolas, from Lord of the Rings - this is the 3rd or 4th year he's chosen a literary character, which I positively adore. &nbsp;Leo dressed as Hans Solo, and proclaimed to me upon seeing himself in costume, "Mom! &nbsp;I have the PERFECT hair for Hans Solo!" And Pax dressed as a white ninja warrior "who fights for peace." <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1O5FOqHSnUo/WBlFSjD8-EI/AAAAAAAADzU/DPE393hxvB8eCaJ06_L2KHBpF9Hlhh8fACLcB/s1600/20161031_223643390_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1O5FOqHSnUo/WBlFSjD8-EI/AAAAAAAADzU/DPE393hxvB8eCaJ06_L2KHBpF9Hlhh8fACLcB/s320/20161031_223643390_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XafX3QbZsIU/WBlF2IDQe_I/AAAAAAAADzY/aWYg9-gJuEQVxp5GugjoyGX5UFsGL0_qQCEw/s1600/20161031_221645093_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XafX3QbZsIU/WBlF2IDQe_I/AAAAAAAADzY/aWYg9-gJuEQVxp5GugjoyGX5UFsGL0_qQCEw/s320/20161031_221645093_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWjcrsEdgOo/WBlF2QTVZbI/AAAAAAAADzg/kBQlIaGgXXI_U5flZPGdtvuxwfnJ5UeUQCEw/s1600/20161031_221746565_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWjcrsEdgOo/WBlF2QTVZbI/AAAAAAAADzg/kBQlIaGgXXI_U5flZPGdtvuxwfnJ5UeUQCEw/s320/20161031_221746565_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LBFvatXYrLU/WBlF2QHswjI/AAAAAAAADzc/I4Uc22GDX4gupb-xdX-jCT2P2Ie1P2OVQCEw/s1600/20161101_002703748_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LBFvatXYrLU/WBlF2QHswjI/AAAAAAAADzc/I4Uc22GDX4gupb-xdX-jCT2P2Ie1P2OVQCEw/s320/20161101_002703748_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />It was a good night. &nbsp;Jeff came over to have pizza with us and see the kids in their costumes, then we met up with good friends. &nbsp;The moonless night, the bright stars, and the chill in the air made for a perfect evening. &nbsp;My dad walked the neighborhood with us and helped carry the impressive loot of candy, and my mom stayed at our home to pass out candy. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NHRvtLJba-E/WBlIwhwnxoI/AAAAAAAADzw/AUVS9-gVQ4sEEbjezWVIKnnNVwq0ZFSWACLcB/s1600/IMG_1200%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NHRvtLJba-E/WBlIwhwnxoI/AAAAAAAADzw/AUVS9-gVQ4sEEbjezWVIKnnNVwq0ZFSWACLcB/s320/IMG_1200%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />This past weekend, I enjoyed an adult-only costume party at the home of my good friends Kyle and Jeanne. &nbsp;Such a good time, so many laughs, and so many clever costumes all around. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Pqdu88OsME/WBlFRQjyKII/AAAAAAAADzE/PAzd6GNWQkgMExeYUIacoc-IboXen981QCEw/s1600/20161029_233508230_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Pqdu88OsME/WBlFRQjyKII/AAAAAAAADzE/PAzd6GNWQkgMExeYUIacoc-IboXen981QCEw/s320/20161029_233508230_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My buddy happens to be a cop. &nbsp;He is dressed as a breathalyzer, which seems fitting that he found<br />&nbsp;a flapper (or two) at the party.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Indeed, what a difference a year makes. &nbsp;In all these months of my silence on this blog, there have been stories too painful and too heartbreaking to share. &nbsp;And yet there have also been stories that are so poignant and tender and lovely that, in time, perhaps I will be able to make space for them here. &nbsp;I was reminded of one such memory earlier this week.... In hindsight, it is a story of success, of sweetness, of the power of do-overs.<br /><br />A year ago, due to myriad reasons, my kids didn't end up getting to trick or treat for very long, and came home with a meager handful of candy. &nbsp;Their sadness and disappointment over Halloween was too much for my heart to bear, since Halloween is among my favorite holidays. &nbsp;And so, on November 1, a Sunday last year, I went out and bought several big bags of candy that I knew my kids loved. &nbsp;I put our trunk of dress up clothes on the porch, handed bags to each kid, and gave them their instructions: &nbsp;they were to get dressed outside in whatever costume they chose from the trunk, and ring the doorbell. &nbsp;Meanwhile, inside, I had my own stash of wardrobe changes and a large bowl of candy to distribute. <br /><br />The first time, the kids rang the doorbell and said "Trick or Treat!" in rather reluctant and skeptical voices. &nbsp;I answered the door, pretended they were strangers, admired their costumes, gave them candy, and shut the door. &nbsp;Costume and wardrobe changes ensued; the doorbell rang again; again, I answered them as strangers, oohed and aahed over their new personas, passed out the treats, and closed the door.<br /><br />This continued for many rounds. &nbsp;Each round got more entertaining, as the kids added story lines to their characters. &nbsp;As they neared the bottom of the dress up trunk, the stories became more elaborate as their costumes became more weird. &nbsp;As I shut the door on the final round, all I heard was laughter on both sides of the door. &nbsp;A few minutes later, they came into the house, and I greeted them as their Mom, delighted to see them. &nbsp;I reveled in hearing their tales of trick or treating, and how they had dressed. <br /><br />This year was a good year - made sweeter by that powerful memory from our bitter past.Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-92130377432402507102016-10-03T22:10:00.002-04:002016-10-03T22:10:27.830-04:00...and they flew...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've long admired Maria Montessori for her work as an educator and a progressive pioneer in empowering children. &nbsp;She observed,</span><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /> "The essence of independence is to be able to do something for one's self. Adults work to finish a task, but the child works in order to grow, and is working to create the adult, the person that is to be. Such experience is not just play... it is work he must do in order to grow up." </i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Indeed, such an opportunity for independence and growth came along this weekend, quite unexpectedly and with equal parts thrill and terror. &nbsp;</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />Aidan and I were preparing a double batch of lasagna when I discovered, to my dismay, that I had completely forgotten an essential ingredient - mozzarella cheese. &nbsp;"What are we going to DO?" I exclaimed, my head in my hands.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Mom! &nbsp;I'll go to the store!" Aidan suggested, his whole face lit up with the possibility.&nbsp;</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"How will you get there?" I asked.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"My bike!" he said with a laugh. &nbsp;And I stared at him, as Montessori's words echoed in my head. &nbsp;(Not so eloquently, of course. &nbsp;More like independence. &nbsp;Adventure. &nbsp;Resourcefulness.)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And so with just a little more convincing on Aidan's part, plus the additional help of his brother Leo, I agreed to let them go. &nbsp;I packed a backpack with the grocery list, cash, and a cell phone; I reminded them to be smart and safe; we briefly reviewed the route and the rules of the road.... and they were off.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">55 minutes later, just as I had started wringing my hands, they returned. Triumphant, sweaty, glowing with pride and accomplishment and independence. &nbsp;I felt so proud of them in that moment, and of US. &nbsp;This was measureable, real, triumphant growth for each of us...</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q8VFC-NhVv4/V_MM9in8C4I/AAAAAAAADx8/3jdK9oMtwv8BvnawtkZ4m4_2O8Ddx4Z6ACLcB/s1600/20161001_203825278_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-q8VFC-NhVv4/V_MM9in8C4I/AAAAAAAADx8/3jdK9oMtwv8BvnawtkZ4m4_2O8Ddx4Z6ACLcB/s320/20161001_203825278_iOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Come to the edge," she said.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"We are afraid," they said.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Come to the edge," she said.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">They came. &nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She pushed them...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">...and they flew.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-Guillaume Apollinaire</span></div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-50385126802584306082016-09-16T22:06:00.001-04:002016-10-09T18:32:28.966-04:00MagicTonight, there was magic.<br /><br />It began at the dinner table, where so many sacred and sustaining moments occur... and it carried through the night. &nbsp;Our dinner was late on the table, due in part because of after-school plans and a new recipe I'd been eager to try but took longer to make than anticipated. &nbsp;Hungry but happy, we gathered around Anne(tte)'s enchilladas, cornbread, chips and salsa, and pineapple. &nbsp;Everyone devoured dinner and exclaimed how good it was; that, in and of itself, felt satisfying and rewarding, given it was a brand new recipe with components that often get nose snubs. &nbsp;(What the hell is offensive about shredded chicken, may I dare ask?)<br /><br />As we filled our bellies, we filled each other in on our days. &nbsp;Pax had a marvelous field trip to the Frontier Culture Museum; Aidan loves his science class and teacher; Leo had an awesome time at Fun Fridays; and I enjoyed a good haircut and a great run. &nbsp;And then.<br /><br />Out of the seemingly clear blue, Leo said, "I think that some girls are like magnets, and some boys are like metal." &nbsp;"What do you mean by that, like they attract each other?" I asked. <br /><br />"No," he clarified, "Like some boys want all the girls to stick to them." <br /><br />Again I asked, "What do you mean by that?"<br /><br />"Well, there's this boy, Carter. &nbsp;He likes all the girls. &nbsp;He talks to them, and says stuff to them. &nbsp;And today at recess, he was saying stuff to a girl, and then he ran away. &nbsp;The girl came and sat next to me, and I think she felt uncomfortable because of what Carter said to her."<br /><br />I rehearsed those words a hundred times so that I committed them to memory. &nbsp;My 9 year old son observed <i>"I think she felt uncomfortable because of what Carter said to her."&nbsp;</i><br /><br />If ever there was a teachable moment, wrapped up in a shining gold ribbon and sitting on my plate, begging to be unwrapped, it was This Moment.<br /><br />I praised Leo for observing that the girl felt uncomfortable. &nbsp;I validated how important it is for girls to feel comfortable with boys, and that boys may not say or do anything to make a girl feel uncomfortable. &nbsp;I shared with them my experience as I was walking on the Downtown Mall.<br /><br />"Just yesterday, I was walking to the gym, and a man that I passed said to me, 'Hey sexy.' "(brief interruption to explain that "hey sexy" essentially meant "I like your body.")<br /><br />&nbsp;I told my sons how it made me feel, like I was only being seen for what I look like on the outside, not for who I am on the inside. &nbsp;And that each of us are so much more than what we see on the outside. &nbsp;And I said that it wasn't a compliment, because it didn't make me feel good at all.<br /><br />"I'm smart," I began.<br />"VERY smart," Aidan added.<br /><br />"You're strong, Mama! &nbsp;You can see it, like, in your arms," Pax observed.<br /><br />"Yes. &nbsp;I am smart, and I am strong. &nbsp;I am also kind," I stated. &nbsp;"And that's what I want people to notice about me, and so it hurt my feelings when that man said 'Hey, Sexy,' because he didn't see me for who I am."<br /><br />"Like Brian sees you?" Leo asked.<br />"Yes," I replied. &nbsp;"Like Brian sees me."<br /><br />Pax said, "But Mama, you're still cute. &nbsp;You are always cute."<br /><br /><i>(Honestly, how many arguments can one have with a six year old in a day?)</i><br /><br />I reiterated again how powerful it was that Leo paid attention to how uncomfortable a boy made a girl feel, and that we must be very careful to give compliments to people - using words to express what we admire about another person - and that our words our powerful. <br /><br />Abruptly, as these moments tend to be, we moved on to another topic, and eventually found our way on to the deck, where we'd gathered materials in advance for the first fire pit of the season, plus s'mores to go with. &nbsp;As we coaxed fire out of kindling and a match, and waited patiently to add logs, just to wait more patiently for the fire to burn down to s'more temperature, we told stories. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XVcfr3z0z_c/V9yiyJgYUjI/AAAAAAAADxo/wmcrj-9jnvsTQkeL2zBZDJ5tlOJmolmJACLcB/s1600/20160916_233515580_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XVcfr3z0z_c/V9yiyJgYUjI/AAAAAAAADxo/wmcrj-9jnvsTQkeL2zBZDJ5tlOJmolmJACLcB/s320/20160916_233515580_iOS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />Most of them featured three little boys who were just sittin' and thinkin', sittin' and thinkin'. &nbsp;A few included a Mama, or a Mama and Daddy who loved them fiercely. &nbsp;Most of them made sense, some of them were poignant in the face of our moment in time, and all of them were magical. <br /><br />I sat back and gazed upon my three sons, drinking in redemption, and reveling.... <br /><br />It is my great hope that I will take my sons to Disney World to experience all of the Magic of the Mouse. &nbsp;But tonight, all I could think was, the magic is here. &nbsp;For free. &nbsp;At our table. &nbsp;On my deck. With my sons. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qxDA5qn5sZs/V9yiiR_m_UI/AAAAAAAADxk/XJuwefMtGhEl6dSh1GpTTPL1JOaVt_Y8ACLcB/s1600/20160917_000135794_iOS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qxDA5qn5sZs/V9yiiR_m_UI/AAAAAAAADxk/XJuwefMtGhEl6dSh1GpTTPL1JOaVt_Y8ACLcB/s320/20160917_000135794_iOS.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-30915459611203110352016-09-12T22:00:00.002-04:002016-09-12T22:00:16.894-04:00Start Where You Are.I'm reading two books that are powerful and healing, each in their own right. &nbsp;One phrase from one of the books has latched into my brain, and it's what I tell myself now when I am overwhelmed by what is ahead of me, what I'm wanting to do or trying to do or afraid to do: &nbsp;<b>start where you are.</b><br /><br />I've wanted to try to start writing again in this space for months and months and months. &nbsp;I kept putting it off. &nbsp;The expectations I place on myself can be crushing, and I resisted getting started because what if I can't find the time to write? &nbsp;What if I can't make sense of the lags in entries, because some moments are too painful, some struggles are too big? &nbsp;What if my voice becomes inauthentic? &nbsp;What if I over edit? &nbsp;What if I under edit? <i>&nbsp;(And what if I stop right now, doing both, since I also told myself I'd post as is, without the edits?)</i><br /><br />Today was a horrible, worrisome day at the school where I work. &nbsp;It was the perfect storm of awful, and it left me feeling defeated and shaken. &nbsp;As I reflected on my day and why it affected me so much, I realized one beautiful truth: &nbsp;I, along with many of my colleagues, left today feeling the same way - utterly defeated and distraught - because of the depth of our concern for and devotion to these kids whom we teach and care for and guide, as best we can, each day at school. &nbsp;And so the weight of today meant something important to me - it is the weight of caring deeply for young human beings, the burden of that weight shared with my smart, kind, and compassionate colleagues.<br /><br />I came home. &nbsp;I headed straight for the gym, and was able to shed much of my yuck. &nbsp;I greeted my children with honesty, telling them that I had had a really awful day. &nbsp;But I also cared for them, showed them grace and kindness and patience and guided them through the afternoon hours, drying tears and holding small heaving shoulders as two boys cried out their frustrations and upsets. &nbsp;Dinner, as it is most nights, was the great equalizer. &nbsp;It was a simple enough meal, but it was a particularly victorious moment when Aidan exclaimed, "This is the best broccoli you have EVER made!" followed by Pax asking for leftover broccoli in his lunch tomorrow.<br /><br />We chatted about our days, taking turns, and at the end Pax shared a homemade book titled "my love" that he had created in the minutes before dinner. &nbsp;It was filled with pictures and simple sentences about the people he loves.<br /><br />And so I held fast to each of these small victories. &nbsp;Calmed and settled hearts; a nourishing meal with good connection to one another; a settling in for the evening. &nbsp;Pax wasn't feeling well and went to sleep early, but not before a long snuggle in his bed. &nbsp;Leo and I curled up on my bed for a long snuggle and a thoughtful reading of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Thee-Sing-Letter-My-Daughters/dp/037583527X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;qid=1473731152&amp;sr=8-1&amp;keywords=of+thee+i+sing+a+letter+to+my+daughters" target="_blank">this book</a>,&nbsp;which led to many questions and comments about powerful leaders and beautiful ideas.<br /><br />When I returned from tucking Leo into his bed, I found Aidan sprawled out on my bed, flipping through the pages of "Of Thee I Sing." &nbsp;After a long snuggle, Aidan told me how he thought Nelson Mandela and Sitting Bull were a lot a like, and that if Hillary Clinton wins the presidency, we'll refer to Bill as First Gentleman President. &nbsp;All of these observations and realizations in the span of just a few minutes, sparked by a quick flip through of the book on the bed. &nbsp;And suddenly I'm marveling at this 12 year old boy before me in a whole new way. &nbsp;Seventh grade is the "sweet spot" of school aged people, the grade in which you are not ready to give up being a child, yet you are not quite ready to be a young person yet. &nbsp;And so you dabble between the two, blurring the lines with your wisdom and perspective, balancing them with the desire to be tucked in, to be sung to before falling asleep. &nbsp;Sweet spot, indeed.<br /><br />And in that moment, in hearing my 12 year old describe the similarities between inspirational leaders from two very different times and places, to jumping into dialogue on what to call our first male spouse of the White House, I realized it was a moment I wished to never forget. &nbsp;I wrestled the goodness out of the day, and there it was, curled up next to me for a long snuggle, three times over, with new knowledge and ideas and perspective to go with. <br /><br />So I start where I am.<br /><br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-77850846475287523382015-11-07T08:16:00.000-05:002015-11-07T08:18:01.051-05:00Heart of a LionThere are moments in living in this world that are so astoundingly beautiful, you cannot believe they are happening.&nbsp; The moment becomes a part of your personal narrative, one that alters and shapes your perceptions, even in the tiniest of ways.&nbsp; You know yourself to be lucky beyond measure to have born witness to the moment.<br />*****<br />On Thursday, Pax lost a tooth.&nbsp; This is still a relatively new occurrence for him, and he was so excited for the Tooth Fairy to arrive.&nbsp; But the poor Tooth Fairy was beyond exhausted that night, spent and weary and beat.&nbsp; She may have fallen asleep seconds after the last child was tucked into bed and kissed goodnight.<br /><br />Friday morning, I was in the shower when Pax came into the bathroom.&nbsp; "Mom," he said to me in a wavering voice.&nbsp; "The Tooth Fairy did not come.&nbsp; She did not take my tooth or leave me any money."&nbsp; Instantly, my heart sank to my feet.&nbsp; "Oh, honey, I am so sorry!" I said in my best unconcerned voice.&nbsp; "You know, I have heard that this happens sometimes with the Tooth Fairy, that she gets so busy with collecting teeth that sometimes she doesn't make it to all the teeth in one night.&nbsp; Let's talk about it when I am out of the shower."&nbsp; Pax left, and I could see through the steamed glass that his little shoulders were slumped over.&nbsp; <br /><br />As I was putting on my robe, Pax came back into the bathroom.&nbsp; "Mom!" he said in a voice that was part joyful, part wondering.&nbsp; "The Tooth Fairy got confused!&nbsp; Guess what?&nbsp; She DID come, but she got confused and left two dollars for me under Leo's pillow instead of mine!"&nbsp; My voice caught in my throat, in disbelief.&nbsp; "I'll be right in to your room, Pax."<br /><br />Leo was sitting up in his bed when I walked in the&nbsp;room behind Pax.&nbsp; I caught his eye, and immediately saw the twinkle there.&nbsp; "Mom," Leo began.&nbsp; "I don't know how this happened, but the Tooth Fairy left money for Pax underneath MY pillow instead of his! Maybe it's because he sleeps in my bed so much!&nbsp; My wallet is waaaay over there, but there was money under my pillow for Pax!"&nbsp; <br /><br />I gazed at my son, feeling&nbsp;the weight of his love and heft of his kindness,&nbsp;absorbing this moment in time that is indelible, defining for us both...<br /><span id="goog_2019906147"></span><span id="goog_2019906148"></span><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-44665589013143881482015-10-28T17:44:00.003-04:002015-10-28T21:56:51.159-04:00Unconditional: Defined.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will return to this space, fully and weekly, in time. &nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Until then--</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought I knew unconditional love. &nbsp;I've always known God's unconditional love for me, the way God shows up for me, speaks to me, shines light on me. &nbsp;God shows up in sunrises that catch me by surprise, in moonlight that bursts through clouds, in light that fights through the darkness. &nbsp; Admittedly, my relationship with God right now is complicated, and my time with God is awfully quiet these days. &nbsp;But never do I doubt God's presence, God's love for me. &nbsp;Wholly and completely, unconditional. &nbsp;But unconditional goes far beyond God's love...</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unconditional, defined: &nbsp;It begins with two important men in my life.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The relationship I have with my father is different - and better - now than it has ever been in my life. That is to say, I have never felt closer or more loved or more supported by him than I do today. &nbsp;It is in the little ways he cares for me: &nbsp;delivering fresh flowers to me every week; getting my car inspected; fixing broken sinks and scouring my bathroom tubs and installing new appliances. &nbsp;Sharing breakfast with each of my sons, individually, on a three week rotation. &nbsp;Washing dinner dishes after putting my kids to bed, while I am tutoring. &nbsp;Buying me beer, pouring me a drink. The list goes on and on... and yet the simplest thing he said to me, recently, is the moment I keep coming back to, again and again. &nbsp;In a moment of angst and stress over my financial mess, my father shared with me, "When we moved to Virginia, we were really 240 hours from being bankrupt. &nbsp;My dad said 'Paul, it is only paper.' &nbsp;The next day we got a cash sale on the house and closed with 48 hours to spare. &nbsp;But my dad was right either way - it was only paper." &nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For years, my father has counseled me with those same words - "Money is just paper." &nbsp;But I used to scoff and blow him off, because let's face it - he always has more paper than I do. &nbsp;Everything changed with that text from him to me. &nbsp;I understood, in new light, what was being shared. &nbsp;The wisdom of his words were being passed down through generations. &nbsp;Knowing that his father had counseled him in the same way made me understand the value of the words. &nbsp;Suddenly, I was connected not only to my father, but to my grandfather as well - a man I loved dearly, and admired deeply. &nbsp;He was well-read, an accomplished organist, a fine chef, and a good, good man who demonstrated unconditional love in real and significant ways, particularly for the time period in which he lived. &nbsp;He raised up an even better son, who reads occasionally, is tone-deaf, and whose culinary skills (outside of the grill) are decent at best. &nbsp;But the values my grand/father instilled, the man (men) he helped/is helping to shape, the wisdom each imparted, the actions that support the words spoken define unconditional love.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My brother Adam spent the better part of a week here this summer, and among many other chores he did, he mowed and weed whacked the lawn. &nbsp;It has never looked better - and I know that I'm not the only one with this opinion, because my neighbor admired the lawn, then asked, "Is he your hired help?" &nbsp;I guffawed (hired help? &nbsp;Really?) before responding, "No. &nbsp;He's my brother." &nbsp;Unconditional.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Adam is among the most emotionally literate men I know, and I dream of raising sons who are as emotionally connected, affirming, and tender as Adam is to me. &nbsp;Adam's ability to connect to what I am feeling and validate me, again and again is breathtaking. &nbsp;He takes what I say to him without judgement, contextualizes it, normalizes it, then reflects it back to me. &nbsp;Each phone call ends the same way: first a pause, then "I love, you, Annie." &nbsp;</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Unconditional.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yet there is nothing that defines unconditional more completely than the love of my mother. &nbsp;Mine has demonstrated her love to me, timelessly and tirelessly. &nbsp;My mother is my cheerleader, my coach, my rally-er, my sympathetic ear. &nbsp;For many months now, she does the kids' laundry, cleans out closets, organizes massive heaps of stuff, tidies rooms, loves on my kids, takes me out for dinner and treats me to new clothes, invites us over for dinner, plants my garden, runs my errands. &nbsp;That's a small handful of what she does for me. Recently, a song popped into my head that was a choir anthem many years ago. &nbsp;Aidan was about 4 years old, and was captivated by it; he requested it many nights in a row after he heard it for the first time that Sunday morning. &nbsp;"When I fall down you pick me up, when I am dry you fill my cup..." &nbsp;That was the part that Aidan liked best. &nbsp;Finally, I asked him what made that song so special to him. &nbsp;"Because, Mommy, when I fall down, you always pick me up." &nbsp;And when that song popped into my head again for the first time in many years, I instantly knew why. &nbsp;Because I have been falling down. &nbsp;Again and again and again. &nbsp;And my mom, she's been picking me up. &nbsp;Again and again and again....&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unconditional: defined.</span>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-25455862219431951042015-05-04T14:15:00.003-04:002015-05-04T14:16:39.759-04:00A(nother) reader in da house!So this is happening:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibq43hl9X20">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibq43hl9X20</a></span><br /><br />!!!!!!!!!!!!! &nbsp;So, so exciting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <br /><br />There is something uniquely awesome about watching a child discovering the joy of reading something all by himself. &nbsp;I am smitten with this newest reader and his amazing capabilities! &nbsp;Look out, Library, you're soon to be DEVOURED!Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-6579489181616671072015-04-26T06:30:00.004-04:002015-04-26T06:30:33.450-04:00Sweet P"Catch up on blog" remains at the top of my to-do list. &nbsp;Life keeps getting in the way of my to do's.<div><br /></div><div>But I do not want to forget to savor these two recent snippets, the finding-beauty-in-every-day moments that are what sustain me these days....</div><div><br /></div><div>In addition to sharing the good part and bad part of our days at the dinner table, we've added a third element. &nbsp;Each of us shares something beautiful that we've encountered that day, for even on hard days, sad days, angry days, or dreary days, there is<i> still</i> something beautiful to be found, recognized, enjoyed. &nbsp;Sometimes, the most beautiful part of my day is when I hear what Aidan, Leo, and Pax share. &nbsp;Like on this recent evening:<br /></div><div>Me: "What was the beautiful part of your day?"</div><div><br /></div><div>Pax: &nbsp;"I know. &nbsp;Making wishes in the fountain. &nbsp;With Mommy. &nbsp;That made it moooooore beautiful."</div><div><br /></div><div>**********************</div><div><br />Most of my grocery shopping happens now while Pax is at school. &nbsp;But this week, thrown off a day by a field trip with Aidan, I had to shop on Friday morning with Pax in tow. &nbsp;On the one hand, it was nice to have his company. &nbsp;On the other hand, we predictably ended up with more in the cart than I'd intended. &nbsp;By the last aisle, I was weary of saying no to treats, abundant in every aisle, negotiating trades in the cart (if you want to get the sprinkles for ice cream, then we need to put back the chocolate chips), and of simply being in the grocery store, still. &nbsp;As his voice took on a whiney pitch as he lobbied for two kinds of popsicles, I said to him,</div><div><br /></div><div>"Pax! &nbsp;We already have special things in this cart for you. &nbsp;Do you see any treats in this cart for ME?"</div><div><br /></div><div>He stared at me. &nbsp;Grinned. &nbsp;"Yes," he replied, hanging off the edge of the handle. &nbsp;</div><div>"ME. &nbsp;I am your treat!" &nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Perspective. Restored.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>&nbsp;</div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-85908651355180103292015-03-23T21:38:00.002-04:002015-03-23T21:38:46.767-04:00Personal Best&nbsp;Soon, I hope to back fill some of the time and space that is so absent from this place. &nbsp;I hope to catalog some Christmas photos, recount the celebration of Leo's 8th birthday, showcase a cooking challenge we took on in February, and remember and record some of the good moments of these past few hard, challenging, and dark months. <br /><div><br />But I needed a place to start, today. &nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>I ran the Charlottesville 10 Miler this past weekend, the 6th time I've done this race. &nbsp;I was excited to run this year with a friend from church, but... we didn't have a good plan in place on the morning of the race for meeting up, and we could not find each other. &nbsp;Though I had been looking forward to having a partner to run with again, I did not mind in the least the challenge of running, solo. &nbsp;I knew I could do it. &nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>My goal each year is the same: &nbsp;beat my time from last year. &nbsp;Given the obstacles I've faced this training season, including lots of snow, ice, and frigid temperatures, I wasn't confident I could beat my 1:23:49 time from 2014.</div><div><br /></div><div>I killed it. &nbsp;I ran this year's race in 1:19:44, shaving 4 minutes off my time, running sub-8's the entire way, and placing 13th in my age range, &nbsp;and 328th (out of 1,715) overall. &nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>Perhaps best of all, just when I was feeling a little bit like I was dragging in mile 9, I spotted my buddy Tony up ahead and was able to catch up to him. &nbsp;We finished the race together, and he gave me the encouragement I needed at the very end to finish so strong. &nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FVkW32LyvPM/VRC-ustjEeI/AAAAAAAADhM/hUpHVYqf9YY/s1600/photo%2B(71).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FVkW32LyvPM/VRC-ustjEeI/AAAAAAAADhM/hUpHVYqf9YY/s1600/photo%2B(71).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's to personal bests.</div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-64923786887208779532014-12-14T20:38:00.002-05:002014-12-14T20:42:10.296-05:00It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas....I decided to Unplug the Christmas Machine this year. &nbsp;I decided to simplify, say yes to the things that we think are most important, say no to the things that aren't. &nbsp;We're focusing more on traditions, and on time spent together. &nbsp;We asked each kid to identify the one tradition that is most important or dear to them, and made sure to carve out the time and space to make those things happen. &nbsp;We've been intentional in creating big, blank spaces in the December calendar. &nbsp;We've focused on the Waiting that is so important in Advent. &nbsp;11 days away from Christmas morning, I can actually say, with sincerity, that I am<i> enjoying</i> Christmas this year.<br /><br />I'm enjoying...<br /><br />the way Pax arranges the Nativities. &nbsp;He is enthralled with each one, and painstakingly arranges each character in a circle surrounding the Baby Jesus. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4CSijkJbfaI/VI4xbtKojlI/AAAAAAAADbU/zDcqXUAcDrk/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4CSijkJbfaI/VI4xbtKojlI/AAAAAAAADbU/zDcqXUAcDrk/s1600/016.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V7uakmRpOtQ/VI4xSCN438I/AAAAAAAADbM/nIJaR3Ji49s/s1600/019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V7uakmRpOtQ/VI4xSCN438I/AAAAAAAADbM/nIJaR3Ji49s/s1600/019.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>&nbsp;The best part is when I discover one long after he's gone to bed... like this one, left on a corner table and undiscovered for several hours.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NzRQTitis8s/VI4xdN2kEjI/AAAAAAAADbc/S0GfQe39KmU/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NzRQTitis8s/VI4xdN2kEjI/AAAAAAAADbc/S0GfQe39KmU/s1600/024.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />...decorating a gingerbread house at Monticello was what Pax named as the Tradition We Must Do. &nbsp;This year, we felt like seasoned pros. &nbsp;We had a plan; we had a design; we had a wonderful time creating this.... masterpiece?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWbTFMOzoWE/VI4x231RbII/AAAAAAAADbs/OtvDl-8vKtY/s1600/042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OWbTFMOzoWE/VI4x231RbII/AAAAAAAADbs/OtvDl-8vKtY/s1600/042.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3IojVKDiPw/VI4yEw647cI/AAAAAAAADb8/GV62YK5phAc/s1600/046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-y3IojVKDiPw/VI4yEw647cI/AAAAAAAADb8/GV62YK5phAc/s1600/046.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RUhATvbvLJc/VI4yBSJbs0I/AAAAAAAADb0/H3ciC-10x7Q/s1600/052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RUhATvbvLJc/VI4yBSJbs0I/AAAAAAAADb0/H3ciC-10x7Q/s1600/052.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lMORcNMq2Fw/VI4yVS1dBYI/AAAAAAAADcM/5xDNGCNJJ_Y/s1600/078.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lMORcNMq2Fw/VI4yVS1dBYI/AAAAAAAADcM/5xDNGCNJJ_Y/s1600/078.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3idYjouLVaE/VI4xiz5Ce0I/AAAAAAAADbk/VhQ4D-J4OW8/s1600/083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3idYjouLVaE/VI4xiz5Ce0I/AAAAAAAADbk/VhQ4D-J4OW8/s1600/083.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;...New traditions: &nbsp;my girl Clancy and I decided it was high time for a tradition of our very own. Early in December, we began researching the Best Christmas Cocktail Ever. &nbsp;We feel as though it is the very least we can do for our dear husbands, who work so hard.... we'll take the hassle and stress out of mixing cocktails, and we'll just deliver the very best drink, right to their thirsty hands.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rN8k5bU-irA/VI4yQu_7ilI/AAAAAAAADcE/n2Nonv3QvQA/s1600/117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rN8k5bU-irA/VI4yQu_7ilI/AAAAAAAADcE/n2Nonv3QvQA/s1600/117.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cranberry Spice Sidecar = our research is over!</td></tr></tbody></table>...After our exceptional adventure to see The Nutcracker last year, Leo decided that the Tradition We Must Do would be to go and see a Christmas play or show. &nbsp;We decided to support our local high school and go and see their production of "A Christmas Story." &nbsp;It was such a fun night!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_citEtKfJcg/VI4yYvhwgxI/AAAAAAAADcU/yRzVyqsq5Rg/s1600/120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_citEtKfJcg/VI4yYvhwgxI/AAAAAAAADcU/yRzVyqsq5Rg/s1600/120.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pax was delighted to see his preschool friend Claire at the show. Here, he's waving at her and giggling. &nbsp;Too cute!!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nLudFipgM2g/VI4ylA44iWI/AAAAAAAADcc/ofJWaDYbMow/s1600/127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nLudFipgM2g/VI4ylA44iWI/AAAAAAAADcc/ofJWaDYbMow/s1600/127.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cast and crew --</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;I'm also enjoying Holiday Mischief. &nbsp;"I am SUPERSanta!!" &nbsp;Pax proclaimed:<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vzfv9CI6K5Q/VI4y2rE68dI/AAAAAAAADck/lBD91bKiF8E/s1600/133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vzfv9CI6K5Q/VI4y2rE68dI/AAAAAAAADck/lBD91bKiF8E/s1600/133.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving his Sleigh on Christmas Eve....</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;My mother treated me to a wreath making workshop at Monticello. It was interesting and somewhat stressful, yet I am happy enough with my end result. &nbsp;I kept wishing, though, for my never-fails-me- glue gun. &nbsp;The next morning, Pax had many questions about our wreathes. &nbsp;"Does Grandma's wreath look exactly like your wreath?" he asked. "No, it doesn't. &nbsp;We each got to do whatever we wanted." "Oh," he said. &nbsp;"So Grandma's looks a little bit more awesomer than yours?"<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fBVB0_easpI/VI4y301UFQI/AAAAAAAADcs/KUk_kirT81A/s1600/215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fBVB0_easpI/VI4y301UFQI/AAAAAAAADcs/KUk_kirT81A/s1600/215.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">homemade wreathes. &nbsp;My mom's is on the left; mine is on the right. &nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;I picked the kids up early from school one day so that we could go and visit Santa. &nbsp;Aidan asked for trumpet music that he could play with his dad; Leo asked for a remote control, life-size clone of himself; and Pax froze up and didn't ask for a single thing. &nbsp;Still - it was a fun visit, especially afterward, when the boys played "Secret Santa" all over the mall.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ud_4YGHPhk/VI4y4wkK8LI/AAAAAAAADc0/nfF2ca1DYrE/s1600/194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2ud_4YGHPhk/VI4y4wkK8LI/AAAAAAAADc0/nfF2ca1DYrE/s1600/194.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tetuqeG9YpU/VI4zHl7BgbI/AAAAAAAADdU/7yy3TqTbzyk/s1600/200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tetuqeG9YpU/VI4zHl7BgbI/AAAAAAAADdU/7yy3TqTbzyk/s1600/200.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>&nbsp;(The boys wrote sweet notes and drew pictures on these envelopes, signed them "Love, Santa's Elves," filled them with small bills and change, and left them on vending machines and the carousel for others to discover and enjoy...)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QXNSpocQDtk/VI456L3ZsuI/AAAAAAAADek/Piq24cmtq7g/s1600/201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QXNSpocQDtk/VI456L3ZsuI/AAAAAAAADek/Piq24cmtq7g/s1600/201.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Pax's preschool program was so sweet. &nbsp;There's nothing quite like a bunch of four- and five- year olds singing "Go Tell it on the Mountain" to make you feel all warm and fuzzy. &nbsp;This particular expression captures his delight in seeing Grandma and Grandpa and Daddy all present (with me) at the performance.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3QVID5uOqu0/VI4zB1mgokI/AAAAAAAADdE/ex64zW-rgPY/s1600/037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3QVID5uOqu0/VI4zB1mgokI/AAAAAAAADdE/ex64zW-rgPY/s1600/037.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Bd2Ezcj3jI/VI45oS_neUI/AAAAAAAADeM/Z_OZh7mFJmo/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Bd2Ezcj3jI/VI45oS_neUI/AAAAAAAADeM/Z_OZh7mFJmo/s1600/017.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8B27S_1h6A/VI45pvfEflI/AAAAAAAADeU/08JwbI6fmrU/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p8B27S_1h6A/VI45pvfEflI/AAAAAAAADeU/08JwbI6fmrU/s1600/054.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pax's beloved, gifted, extraordinary preschool teacher, Ms. Susan. &nbsp;This woman is an absolute treasure. &nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PGscXr8FcBs/VI45nkYb8ZI/AAAAAAAADeY/2bW2vlZmwoM/s1600/058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PGscXr8FcBs/VI45nkYb8ZI/AAAAAAAADeY/2bW2vlZmwoM/s1600/058.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />...and then today, we celebrated Advent with the Sunday School Christmas Pageant. &nbsp;Pax was a regal and proud king; Leo, a kind shepherd; Aidan was a humble Joseph.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Uc_WSHpMLo/VI4zFhK1lhI/AAAAAAAADdM/wvvV-hVzBn4/s1600/064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3Uc_WSHpMLo/VI4zFhK1lhI/AAAAAAAADdM/wvvV-hVzBn4/s1600/064.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IUNprmAPjj0/VI4zI2QqDcI/AAAAAAAADdc/crUr4SYHO9c/s1600/070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IUNprmAPjj0/VI4zI2QqDcI/AAAAAAAADdc/crUr4SYHO9c/s1600/070.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">We are discovering the Wonder in the Waiting.</div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-47454211055690194912014-12-06T21:06:00.002-05:002014-12-06T21:06:31.002-05:00I love you even when.Today was a long day. &nbsp;After preparing 3 massive lasagnas to feed a total of 23 youth and advisors from church tomorrow, then adding in a pan of rice krispie treats, a pan of brownies, and a sheet cake for the Baby Jesus, I was pretty much done with cooking for the day. At 4:30, I wearily looked at my <a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2014/01/whats-for-dinner.html">monthly menu plan</a>, then uncharacteristically looked away.<br /><br />Then, we invited my parents over for happy hour, so that they could experience my newest obsession: &nbsp;Cranberry Spice Sidecars. &nbsp;One thing led to... another round of drinks. &nbsp;But what to serve the kids?<br /><br />Clearly, there was only one solution: &nbsp;carryout pizza for dinner. &nbsp;We <i>never</i> have carryout pizza for dinner. &nbsp;I can't think of the last time the five of us sat down for Papa John's pizza. &nbsp;Was it 6 months ago? &nbsp;8? &nbsp;14 months? &nbsp;But when I bit into that pizza tonight, fetched on by Jeff and Aidan,(I'm still too cheap to splurge for the delivery guy) the first thought that ran through my head was, <i>this is delicious. &nbsp;Why don't we ever order pizza? &nbsp;</i><br /><br />An hour later, I started the putting-Pax-to-bed ritual. &nbsp;After books, prayers, and songs, I lay next to him, quietly, holding his hand. &nbsp;And then - &nbsp;he said, "Mom, I love you. &nbsp;Even when we have carry-out pizza for dinner."<br /><br />I sat there, stunned, ingesting those words, not believing what I'd heard. &nbsp;I reframed it into a question,<br /><br />"Even when we have pizza?"<br /><br />"Yes, I still love you," he answered.<br /><br />Tonight, I learned the very real consequences of raising foodies who love to cook.... and perhaps, too, the measure of unconditional love.Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-83462236630277117992014-11-30T21:15:00.000-05:002014-11-30T22:16:08.370-05:00Tree of Thanks: 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x8ct06HHci8/VHvK_tczt9I/AAAAAAAADaw/1GeSsxKMX14/s1600/216.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x8ct06HHci8/VHvK_tczt9I/AAAAAAAADaw/1GeSsxKMX14/s1600/216.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>I read recently that creating - and then maintaining - traditions is one of the most important things parents can do for their children. &nbsp;With that timely reminder, I dug out the clay pot embellished with a fall ribbon, hunted down a pair of spindly tree branches, and set to work with my glue gun to firmly root our Tree of Thanks. &nbsp;I put the kids to work cutting out simple leaves, and in the end, I felt more grateful than ever before for this ritual, this tradition. &nbsp;It wasn't so much in what they wrote - though there were some poignant and perfect gratitudes - but more in that I felt joyful and gratified in that they knew the drill, knew what to do, <i>knew the tradition</i>. Indeed, it felt like important work.<br /><br />Our leaves: <br />I am thankful for brotherhood. &nbsp; (Leo)<br />I love going to school, and playing outside. &nbsp;(Pax)<br />I am thankful for big books. &nbsp;(Aidan)<br />All the books! (Leo)<br />I am so thankful for "extras" like 2 cars, iphones, Internet service, beer, and wine... (Anne)<br />I am thankful for God (Pax)<br />I am thankful for my friend, Gregory. &nbsp;(Pax)<br />The convenience of the fridge, dishwasher, microwave, washer, and dryer. (Anne)<br />I am thankful for gymnastics! &nbsp;(Pax)<br />I am thankful for lots and lots of love. &nbsp;(Aidan)<br />I am thankful for my BFFs! &nbsp;(Leo)<br />Dinners over at Grandma and Grandpa's house and the fun times we share with them (Anne)<br />Our county. &nbsp;(Leo)<br />Excellent health care, especially ENT; dentistry; physical and mental wellness. (Anne)<br />I am thankful for LIFE! &nbsp;(Leo)<br />My bed. (Leo)<br />Aidan loves band and middle school; Leo is stress-less at school and has fewer headaches; Pax has the best preschool teacher EVER. (Anne)<br />My school (Leo)<br />Seatbelts. &nbsp;(Leo)<br />Helpful and caring bystanders. &nbsp;(Anne)<br />I am thankful for Pax and his cute stories and his hugs and snuggles. &nbsp;(Jeff)<br />I am thankful for our thankful tree. &nbsp;(Pax)<br />I am thankful for friends and teachers. (Aidan)<br />My closest friends: &nbsp;Emily, Clancy, Nicole. (Anne)<br />I am thankful for the beauty of sunsets. &nbsp;(Jeff)<br />I am thankful for a gym I enjoy and friends I can exercise with. (Anne)<br />I am thankful for church. &nbsp;(Leo)<br />I am thankful for the time I got to spend coaching Leo's soccer team. &nbsp;(Jeff)<br />I am thankful for HOME. &nbsp;(Anne)<br />Cooking and sharing good food with Aidan, Leo, and Pax. &nbsp;(Anne)<br />I am thankful for a warm safe environment and house. &nbsp;(Aidan)<br />Our family - especially our now-official Aunt Linsey. (Anne)<br />I am thankful for being able to practice my trumpet with Aidan, and the things he does to help us. &nbsp;(Jeff)<br />I am thankful for my home and my food. &nbsp;(Leo)<br />My mom and dad (Anne)<br />Good friends to talk about beer with (Jeff)<br />I am thankful for friends and teachers. &nbsp;(Aidan)<br />Having "enough." &nbsp;And more. &nbsp;(Anne)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-32728170647123450242014-11-29T20:53:00.000-05:002014-11-30T22:24:09.663-05:00Thanksgiving 2014<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span style="text-align: left;">Although I am squirmy and uncomfortable about how our schools teach the whole "let's celebrate the Native Americans and all the contributions they brought to our culture" </span><strike style="text-align: left;">before we raped and pillaged them</strike><span style="text-align: left;"> bit, I will admit that I still find these little Native American-inspired shirts so, so cute. Round 3 of these shirts seems somehow cuter than ever before - perhaps because I know how quickly these days are coming to an end. Pax kicked off our Thanksgiving celebration with singing and a display of the crafts he's made, followed by a lunch-feast. &nbsp; &nbsp;</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RlHK3WCGpm8/VHvCBJ20arI/AAAAAAAADYw/UC48QY55s9Q/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RlHK3WCGpm8/VHvCBJ20arI/AAAAAAAADYw/UC48QY55s9Q/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B014.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Showing off his Turkey of Thanks</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fh7OsQ2E0l8/VHvCEdmdcNI/AAAAAAAADY4/uiqyDs353nc/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Fh7OsQ2E0l8/VHvCEdmdcNI/AAAAAAAADY4/uiqyDs353nc/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B001.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharing a secret with his Best Bud, G.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pw-HhETIRQg/VHvB-Ns1aBI/AAAAAAAADYo/GDz69h9c5sI/s1600/120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pw-HhETIRQg/VHvB-Ns1aBI/AAAAAAAADYo/GDz69h9c5sI/s1600/120.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One last show of all his goods at home!<br /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;">Thanksgiving day itself was lovely. &nbsp;We missed sharing the day with our extended family, yet it was still festive, joyful -- and delicious. &nbsp;We have so much to be grateful for.</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QEPgl_mM0Y4/VHvCtMKCi0I/AAAAAAAADZA/6QBGbGAYses/s1600/136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QEPgl_mM0Y4/VHvCtMKCi0I/AAAAAAAADZA/6QBGbGAYses/s1600/136.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hostess gift: &nbsp;Tom Turkey, complete with hands from each of us, listing the many reasons for which we are thankful for Grandma and Grandpa</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7D1DWDoGVKc/VHvCwqlxDAI/AAAAAAAADZI/sOKKwvcx8BU/s1600/142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7D1DWDoGVKc/VHvCwqlxDAI/AAAAAAAADZI/sOKKwvcx8BU/s1600/142.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Afternoon Cocktails. &nbsp;Because Grape Soda is *always* better in a plastic martini glass</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oqlTziAWr4I/VHvDMVt9tWI/AAAAAAAADZg/ACX_RVZxE4s/s1600/146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oqlTziAWr4I/VHvDMVt9tWI/AAAAAAAADZg/ACX_RVZxE4s/s1600/146.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Game On!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x7Of7_0-TZc/VHvC2CcTeXI/AAAAAAAADZQ/M8wu1yRjZ0c/s1600/138.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-x7Of7_0-TZc/VHvC2CcTeXI/AAAAAAAADZQ/M8wu1yRjZ0c/s1600/138.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: left;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rgjS0PDfAws/VHvDLSEYjcI/AAAAAAAADZY/u8Wwl86UYag/s1600/150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rgjS0PDfAws/VHvDLSEYjcI/AAAAAAAADZY/u8Wwl86UYag/s1600/150.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ping Pong champions</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kInKPtNdDTY/VHvDU-n5c9I/AAAAAAAADZw/IpLgRZx9LUE/s1600/154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kInKPtNdDTY/VHvDU-n5c9I/AAAAAAAADZw/IpLgRZx9LUE/s1600/154.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carving the turkey. &nbsp;First order of business: &nbsp;hydrate the carver!</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O3iJbIteIJs/VHvDgF4b6lI/AAAAAAAADaA/Rt40UALNfho/s1600/173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O3iJbIteIJs/VHvDgF4b6lI/AAAAAAAADaA/Rt40UALNfho/s1600/173.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best. Meal. Ever!!!</td></tr></tbody></table><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yjNb7zjbjsA/VHvH8E-9_zI/AAAAAAAADak/PPsXe1PCOdE/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UDGeagOYeuE/VHvH7e-OaAI/AAAAAAAADac/lJ2c37pvhwg/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UDGeagOYeuE/VHvH7e-OaAI/AAAAAAAADac/lJ2c37pvhwg/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B031.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-be445srRpsc/VHvDTo6T3NI/AAAAAAAADZo/26Zf8uHrwXY/s1600/180.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-be445srRpsc/VHvDTo6T3NI/AAAAAAAADZo/26Zf8uHrwXY/s1600/180.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Oxj4_iL6kOI/VHvDcOsBTUI/AAAAAAAADZ4/wqHk3HOZ3kw/s1600/191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Oxj4_iL6kOI/VHvDcOsBTUI/AAAAAAAADZ4/wqHk3HOZ3kw/s1600/191.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span><br /><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background: white; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">“Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, and confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. Gratitude makes sense of our past, brings peace for today, and creates a vision for tomorrow.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">-Melody Beattie</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yjNb7zjbjsA/VHvH8E-9_zI/AAAAAAAADak/PPsXe1PCOdE/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yjNb7zjbjsA/VHvH8E-9_zI/AAAAAAAADak/PPsXe1PCOdE/s1600/Thanksgiving%2B2014%2B029.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-46317951164333250402014-11-20T09:35:00.001-05:002014-11-20T09:36:15.025-05:00Say What?At dinner the other night, we were talking about books. &nbsp;Leo asked if I thought the <u>Diary of a Wimpy Kid </u>series would be a just-right fit for his reading level, and I suggested saving those books for a little longer, that he would enjoy them more in a few years. &nbsp;He paused, then asked, "What IS a diary, anyway?" &nbsp;I explained that it was like a journal, a place where someone writes down his own thoughts and ideas, and that it was usually not something that was shared with others. &nbsp;He contemplated that explanation, then looked at me and said, "So there are two kinds of diaries, right?" &nbsp;"What do you mean?" I replied. <br />"Well," he said, thinking - not a hint of funny in his face - "There's the diary where you write stuff down, like a journal. &nbsp;And then there's the diary where you accidentally poop your pants."<br /><br />******<br />Aidan has a big project he is working on for his math class. It's real-life application of math skills he's learning: &nbsp;researching his projected salary, cost of housing, insurance, groceries, and recreation. &nbsp;After gently explaining that earning a salary of $85K as a scientist with an undergraduate degree was pretty unrealistic, Aidan decided that a $26K stipend as a PhD candidate was more likely. &nbsp;He'll be riding a bike instead of driving a car, and eating ramen noodles (presumably on the days he doesn't come to Mom's to cook her dinner in exchange for access to free groceries) but he was pretty set on the $900/mo rent on a cute apartment he found in town. &nbsp;I worried aloud about the high price of his rent, but he said, "Oh, don't worry, Mom, it comes with toiletries." &nbsp;I paused. &nbsp;"Toiletries?" I asked. &nbsp;"Yeah! &nbsp;You know, like a toothbrush," he said. <br />"Your apartment comes with a toothbrush?" I asked again. <br />"Yes!" he insisted. &nbsp;"A toothbrush, toothpaste, you know..." he trailed off. <br />"Okay," I said, "do you mean utilities? &nbsp;Your apartment comes with utilities?" <br />"YES!" he said. "That's what I meant. Utilities. &nbsp;A toothbrush."<br /><br />Finally, my giggling subsided enough to explain what utilities are. &nbsp;He seemed a little disappointed about the heat and the electricity. &nbsp;Bummer about those tiny bars of soap, neatly folded-down corners of toilet paper, and the free toothbrush.... &nbsp;but I can totally sympathize with him. &nbsp;I myself was similarly disappointed to learn that at brothels, they don't, in fact, serve nice warm bowls of soup in a cozy nook....<br /><br />To diaries, toiletries, and bowls of soup--Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-76467382764272314412014-11-15T16:35:00.000-05:002014-11-15T21:13:20.587-05:00to have and to hold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yUFb-Vti7QU/VGfFjierz5I/AAAAAAAADYI/FsP8tyW-Qrk/s1600/183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yUFb-Vti7QU/VGfFjierz5I/AAAAAAAADYI/FsP8tyW-Qrk/s1600/183.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>Last month, we attended the wedding ceremony of my brother and his long-time partner. &nbsp;It was joyous, affirming, and important in the lives of our family, collective.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaPOOwKjIjE/VGfFj1_IbZI/AAAAAAAADYQ/E-slc-TOhK0/s1600/190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QaPOOwKjIjE/VGfFj1_IbZI/AAAAAAAADYQ/E-slc-TOhK0/s1600/190.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>But in our little Carter family, there was an ugly event, one that marred an otherwise wonderful weekend. &nbsp;There was anger, fear, frustration, disbelief, and embarrassment. &nbsp;And yet, during the ugliness, there was love, support, friendship, faith, and respect. &nbsp;In time, there is forgiveness and healing.<br /><br />Looking back on the weekend as a whole, and as we continue to forgive and heal, the word that keeps coming to my mind is that our time with our family was&nbsp;<i>affirming</i>. &nbsp;Listening to the vows that were shared affirmed the very most important components of a relationship, including mutual respect, unwavering love, commitment, humor, and friendship. &nbsp;Gazing around the circle of witnesses to the marriage affirmed the feelings of gratitude for the many ways in which each of us, individually and as couples, have forged ourselves into family. &nbsp;And the way in which the Carters were loved and cared for, even during the darkest of our days, affirmed the concept of Family in a way I'd never imagined. In our circle, I saw loss coupled with joy; struggle coupled with perseverance; commitment, devotion, and unconditional love: &nbsp;it was all present, each of us bearing witness to it all. &nbsp;And to each other.<br /><br />To Love.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FBR7utNC6D0/VGfFKEwTfDI/AAAAAAAADXw/3J15B1keRsY/s1600/081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FBR7utNC6D0/VGfFKEwTfDI/AAAAAAAADXw/3J15B1keRsY/s1600/081.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N-MKqjdrRXs/VGfFHKOIw8I/AAAAAAAADXo/Qwg9t3Lwbjg/s1600/082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N-MKqjdrRXs/VGfFHKOIw8I/AAAAAAAADXo/Qwg9t3Lwbjg/s1600/082.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-8647738509976170292014-11-05T15:34:00.000-05:002014-11-15T15:36:15.963-05:00Halloween 2014Best. Year. Yet!!! &nbsp;But I say that every year. &nbsp;Even though we were more 11th hour than ever before on the costumes, even though I was more skeptical than ever before that we'd pull it off, even though I was hating the fact that I didn't just pony up the money for stress-free store boughts... this was the best Halloween yet.<br /><br />We carved pumpkins a few days ahead....<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3xzuvkJaNoY/VGe3P6jyfBI/AAAAAAAADVw/9O7E0R1hopY/s1600/107.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3xzuvkJaNoY/VGe3P6jyfBI/AAAAAAAADVw/9O7E0R1hopY/s1600/107.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I mustache you a question... but I'll shave it for later (Aidan)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INK4hbX-JQQ/VGe3O6gBN1I/AAAAAAAADVk/WXzUq4os1aM/s1600/108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-INK4hbX-JQQ/VGe3O6gBN1I/AAAAAAAADVk/WXzUq4os1aM/s1600/108.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Pax: &nbsp;classic and cute)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TS0kMp-JZ70/VGe3OjNZ6bI/AAAAAAAADVg/cLoTulfsndY/s1600/109.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TS0kMp-JZ70/VGe3OjNZ6bI/AAAAAAAADVg/cLoTulfsndY/s1600/109.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Leo: winking and trying to look fierce, but mostly looking cute)</td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;...and sent our EPIC Super User off to work.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gvu-HX6OiqM/VGe2fQtld_I/AAAAAAAADUw/dHVgd_FG4N8/s1600/289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gvu-HX6OiqM/VGe2fQtld_I/AAAAAAAADUw/dHVgd_FG4N8/s1600/289.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GMwRBZH0QG4/VGe2c8r5shI/AAAAAAAADUo/SfOHhx0GNJc/s1600/290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GMwRBZH0QG4/VGe2c8r5shI/AAAAAAAADUo/SfOHhx0GNJc/s1600/290.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />A witch and her husband joined us for dinner that night. &nbsp;Most kids got candy; ours got apples.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FRs16fy-D9U/VGe2uaEzu_I/AAAAAAAADVA/o3fw3ozoEEI/s1600/315.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FRs16fy-D9U/VGe2uaEzu_I/AAAAAAAADVA/o3fw3ozoEEI/s1600/315.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />Darth Vader showed up in full force<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U-Uz-7gp7aQ/VGe2qcjIhSI/AAAAAAAADU4/QphyMW0uRmw/s1600/298.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U-Uz-7gp7aQ/VGe2qcjIhSI/AAAAAAAADU4/QphyMW0uRmw/s1600/298.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />The Ewok wanted to snuggle.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x4s6QcONChI/VGe3YI-mLpI/AAAAAAAADWA/xvlgMb-za5s/s1600/165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-x4s6QcONChI/VGe3YI-mLpI/AAAAAAAADWA/xvlgMb-za5s/s1600/165.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br />and the Jedi wowed us with his Light Saber moves. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WMovSuEzIns/VGe2zEXiCPI/AAAAAAAADVI/sTSdbEDvkBM/s1600/319.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WMovSuEzIns/VGe2zEXiCPI/AAAAAAAADVI/sTSdbEDvkBM/s1600/319.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />We all enjoyed a night of sweets and treats...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G3YKLKkq8aQ/VGe3X00J32I/AAAAAAAADWE/H39Sl2PgBbM/s1600/175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-G3YKLKkq8aQ/VGe3X00J32I/AAAAAAAADWE/H39Sl2PgBbM/s1600/175.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>...and great fun was had by all! <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGaU-rrjgIc/VGe2159_rOI/AAAAAAAADVQ/y8YcP3S9eqY/s1600/342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zGaU-rrjgIc/VGe2159_rOI/AAAAAAAADVQ/y8YcP3S9eqY/s1600/342.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HIVHobVf4NE/VGe22bHjr1I/AAAAAAAADVU/2RkkxjKa4Sw/s1600/346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HIVHobVf4NE/VGe22bHjr1I/AAAAAAAADVU/2RkkxjKa4Sw/s1600/346.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU.</div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-23435671218754537942014-10-29T21:51:00.000-04:002014-10-29T22:07:52.001-04:00A meal to go with itDinner is the time of day I guard most carefully in this house. &nbsp;I love to prepare the food; I especially love when the kids prepare the food; I love the food itself. &nbsp;I <i>still </i>love it, despite the fact that some days, it requires near-herculean efforts to get tired kids to rouse themselves off the couch, cranky kids calmed down enough to sit, crying kids to stop crying, mad kids to leave their rooms and come to the table. But times are changing. &nbsp;Something new is happening. &nbsp;These days.... we linger.<br /><br />The first time I noticed it, we lingered 5 minutes past the end of the meal. &nbsp;The next week, 10. One evening the following week, we were at the table for nearly an hour.<br /><br />Later that same week, I read<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2014/10/12/magazine/what-if-you-just-hate-making-dinner.html?ref=magazine&amp;_r=0"> this article on The Family Dinner</a>. &nbsp;Which, in the end, made me feel incredibly sad for her, more than anything else.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.dinneralovestory.com/friday-round-up-11/">Then I read this one</a><u>,</u>&nbsp;which I liked because at least half of our monthly meals come from DALS. &nbsp;Love <a href="http://www.dinneralovestory.com/the-do-you-know-scale/">this post</a>, too, with the embedded links - (it made me realize how much I DO know about my own family, thanks to my mom and dad - and how much we have not yet shared with our own kids...)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.themom100.com/the-mom-100-blog/why-i-dont-hate-making-dinner-and-why-im-not-embarrassed-about-it/">And this one</a>,&nbsp;which I really loved, because she is smart and funny and articulates how <i>liking to cook for your family </i>doesn't, in any way, pose a threat to <i>maintaining a feminist perspective</i>.<br /><br />But the really good part? &nbsp;And the point I'm really trying to make? &nbsp;Is what happened the NEXT night, a night when dinner was served at 5:45, yet everyone was still seated an hour later. &nbsp;It was a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0060245867?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0060245867&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">give-a-mouse-a-cookie&nbsp;</a>&nbsp;kind of evening:<br /><br />We shared the good part, bad part, silly part of our day. &nbsp;Something someone said triggered a conversation about <i>experiences</i> versus <i>material gifts</i>. &nbsp;We asked the kids to recount some of the adventures (experiences) we had in the past year. &nbsp;They rattled off the highlights of a handful of adventures we've shared, including unforgettable moments as well as seemingly tiny details. We asked them, then, to name presents (material gifts) they'd unwrapped on Christmas morning. &nbsp;They stared at us. &nbsp;And said nothing.<br /><br />Jeff and I were gleeful in pointing out, "See! &nbsp;It's the experiences we remember!" &nbsp;Our <i>experiences v. stuff </i>conversation somehow evolved into Boy Scouts, and our refusal to let our sons participate in Boy Scouts, because of the BSA's divisive and unrelenting stance on inclusion of gay leaders. &nbsp;That led to an in-depth conversation on gay marriage, which led to an explanation of the recent decision in Virginia to overturn the ban on gay marriage, and how that decision is supported by the Supreme Court, which led to a bigger discussion on legislation at the state and federal level, and eventually led to why this is good news especially for gay couples who wish to adopt a child, which led to a brief foray into all the different kinds of families there are, and that the one thing they all share is that they - we - &nbsp;love each other, <i>so much</i>...<br /><br />And it happened at the dinner table. We gave our mice a cookie, and they asked for a whole meal to go with it. <br /><br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-75976100086076806672014-10-10T15:27:00.000-04:002014-10-10T22:43:02.319-04:00Eyes OpenRecently, NPR's <a href="http://www.npr.org/2013/11/07/243650305/why-do-people-agree-to-work-boring-jobs?utm_source=npr_email_a_friend&amp;utm_medium=email&amp;utm_content=20141009&amp;utm_campaign=storyshare&amp;utm_term=">David Greene and Shankar Vedantam covered a story</a> on why people agree to do boring work. &nbsp;Their reporting weaved together some new research to the old work of Camus in his "Myth of Sysiphus." &nbsp;Toward the close of the interview, researcher Peter Ubel observed, "Camus [would say]...<b>live your life with your eyes open because meaning doesn't lie in the work, it lies in what you bring to the work." </b><br /><br />Those words echoed in my mind as I contextualized my life to Camus' work. This is the final year of my most meaningful work: the work of birthing and raising and running and wrangling a family. &nbsp;It is hard to imagine, in this moment, that I will find work more meaningful than this. &nbsp;More to the point - it is hard to imagine I will ever find the kind of work again that matches the kind of meaning I've found - <i>created</i> - &nbsp;in all these years of growing up small people.<br />***<br />I overheard a phone conversation that Jeff was having with a relative who'd called to check in. &nbsp;He gave a quick recap of graduate school and work; he talked about the kids' teachers and their new hobbies; and then, he seemed to falter over what to say about me. &nbsp;"Anne's doing great," he said. &nbsp;"She does stuff with youth group kids. &nbsp;And she is busy with..." he trailed off. &nbsp;He didn't quite know how to finish the sentence. <br /><br />At first, I felt a little deflated, and fussed at him about it. "Jeff," I admonished. &nbsp;"I am doing good work here! &nbsp;Important stuff! &nbsp;My work is Pax, and my work is Aidan and Leo. &nbsp;You know this," &nbsp;I reminded him, yet I knew he didn't actually need the reminding. &nbsp;Jeff has always been as resolute as I have in maintaining a lifestyle that includes an at-home parent. &nbsp;"Yeah, you're right," he said. &nbsp;"I just don't know how to describe your work." <br /><br />Upon reflection, I realized it <b>is</b> hard to find the words that describe the meaning of my work. &nbsp;How do I explain the meaning in the mundane, if the answer to "what did you do today?" is a list of generic chores and jobs related to keeping house and keeping kids? &nbsp;How many days has he come home, tired from his own day, and heard my litany of complaints? For there are countless days I've lamented the mess, of the endless to-do, the hours spent chauffeuring, of the exhaustion I feel. &nbsp;He knows I've felt resentment at times, when my work load is too great and the return is too little. &nbsp;Dirt is tracked in on clean floors; bathroom sinks are instantly smeared with toothpaste; the milk supply is depleted well before grocery day; kids and parents are impatient, angry, distant. Where is the meaning in THIS? I've wondered.<br /><br />And yet - there it is. <br /><br />The work of grocery shopping, the times I've hauled tantruming children out, leaving a cart full of stuff, balanced by the meaning we create: weighing the cabbages; boosting Pax onto my shoulder so he can watch the woman at the deli counter slice our turkey in the huge mandolin; playing "I Spy" to distract from "no treats today;" spending the time waiting to check out with a child snuggling in my arms, a quiet and sacred peace stolen from an ordinary trip.<br /><br />The house work: &nbsp;the endless war against dirt and greasy fingerprints and countertops clear of paperwork. &nbsp;If there is a Sysiphus-like hill to climb, it is cleaning house. &nbsp;Finding meaning in the way the vacuuming becomes a delightful event for capable preschoolers who are impressed with their own ability; the inevitable game of "gotcha" that ensues whenever the brush attachment makes its way near barefoot toes; the laughter of littles in the bathtub, playing happily and singing songs with me while I scrubbed toilets and disinfected sinks.<br /><br />The work of the laundry: &nbsp;8 loads or more per week - muddy, smelly, sweaty, food-covered, stained, soiled laundry. &nbsp;Balanced by finding meaning in the laundry basket, recently emptied: &nbsp;a tool that transforms into a pint-sized vessel (a train; a ship; a plane) for rides around the room.<br /><br />The work of play: &nbsp;long walks or bike rides around the neighborhood; mornings with friends; afternoons at the park. Books and board games that divide up our chores; apple picking after gymnastics class, picnic lunches and the occasional adventure to someplace undiscovered.<br /><br />***<br />Pandora played in the background as Pax and I started baking pumpkin muffins this afternoon. We listened to a playlist of well-known children's songs that included Laurie Berkner as we stirred the pumpkin together with the eggs, added the carefully-measured flour. The next song came on, another one by Berkner, titled <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRkR9T71BzQ">"Five Days Old"</a><br /><i>I'm sittin' here I'm one day old</i><br /><i>I'm sittin' here I'm two days old<br />I'm sittin' here I'm three days old</i><br /><i>I'm sittin' here I'm four days old.</i><br /><i><br />(Refrain) One day I'll be a year</i><br /><i>then I'll be two then three then four</i><br /><i>But as for now I'm sittin' here</i><br /><i>I'm five days old and no days more.</i><br /><br />..then several more verses, each time returning to the refrain.<br /><br />We sang and clapped in rhythm; we danced a little around the kitchen; I held him and felt the weight of him in my arms. &nbsp;Just like that day he was one day old. &nbsp;That day when he was five days old, when he turned one, then two, then three, then four. &nbsp;Today, when he is five.<br /><br />We danced some more, and I sang when my voice stopped wobbling. <br />Through my tears, I held my eyes wide open...<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VPH33aAeMOM/VDgw1TwyCJI/AAAAAAAADUA/bKReyixcEJE/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VPH33aAeMOM/VDgw1TwyCJI/AAAAAAAADUA/bKReyixcEJE/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B092.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">...as I live with the full knowledge that "meaning doesn't lie in the work. &nbsp;</div><div style="text-align: center;">It lies in what we bring to the work."</div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-8358329125687538342014-10-01T07:00:00.000-04:002014-10-02T19:13:57.762-04:00Birthday Party Ideas: Round UpLooking for an idea for a themed birthday party? &nbsp;Here's a quick round up of some successful at-home parties. &nbsp;The first four are more like how-to's' the others are more of a general description, but the ideas are still pretty clear.<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2014/09/cooking-celebration-for-chef.html">Cooking up a Storm! </a>&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2013/01/smore-birthday-fun.html">S'more Camping Party</a>&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2012/01/pirates-life-for-me.html">A Pirate's Life for Me</a><u>&nbsp;</u></span>(this was a terrific and easy theme to do)<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2012/05/mad-scientist.html">Mad Scientist Party </a></span>(the kids were soo creative and curious, very engaged! &nbsp;The possibilities for this are ENDLESS....)<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2013_09_01_archive.html">Strike up the Band! &nbsp;Music Party</a>&nbsp;</span>(Loved this one - again, so many variations)<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">Dinosaur Adventure: &nbsp;</span><br />The young paleontologists who helped Leo celebrate his 4th birthday hunted for dino bones hidden around the room, ran in a dino dress up relay race, made Brachiosaurus top hats, and even got to explode a volcano with vinegar and baking soda. I made a Stella Stegosaurus cake - probably my most ambitious cake to date - and she turned out quite well, despite the duct tape I eventually used on her head....<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2012/09/favorite-things-happy-3rd-birthday-pax.html">Favorite Things</a> </span>(a day filled with the things Pax liked best of all.)<br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2010/01/public-transportation-celebration.html">Cars and Trucks and Things That Go</a> - (transportation)</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-shiny-penny.html">Superhero Party</a>&nbsp;</span><br /><br />Other ideas:<br /><br />We've only "outsourced" a few parties. &nbsp;Leo had an <a href="http://carters0804.blogspot.com/2014/01/seven.html">*awesome* rock climbing party </a>this past year, (scroll down on the link to see the pics of the party) and Aidan has chosen to do smaller parties/celebrations several years: taking two friends to create "fused glass art" one year; roller skating and a sleepover another year; and in 2014, Jeff took him and a buddy out for a round of golf to commemorate his 10th birthday. <br /><br />Party on, Wayne!<br /><br />Party on, Garth!<br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-66735240110936505822014-09-30T21:55:00.002-04:002014-09-30T21:55:43.358-04:00Cooking Celebration for a ChefPax turned FIVE YEARS OLD last week. &nbsp;FIVE!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GJv79P36v1M/VCtdMLX4iNI/AAAAAAAADTQ/TX_6Jv-nMA8/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GJv79P36v1M/VCtdMLX4iNI/AAAAAAAADTQ/TX_6Jv-nMA8/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B556.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9VLNdQhRoG8/VCtdL54PKcI/AAAAAAAADTM/jV-MXVodXzo/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9VLNdQhRoG8/VCtdL54PKcI/AAAAAAAADTM/jV-MXVodXzo/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B557.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />We celebrated him this past weekend with a party that was among my most favorite birthday parties, ever: &nbsp;a cooking-themed event. &nbsp;Five friends and one beloved teacher joined us for a morning of cooking, decorating, and chefting. &nbsp;(Chefting = engaging in chef-like acts). &nbsp;Aidan and Leo were Master Chefs in the help they provided to our guests, and Master Brothers in the fun they shared with their baby bro.<br /><br />Although this party had fresh and new ideas, it was actually a variation on a theme - I've kind of gotten this home-grown party thing down to a bit of a science.<br />I choose a color theme,<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eu4gpzxVRpM/VCtVjdRVnVI/AAAAAAAADQQ/T0_5PzWLAYs/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Eu4gpzxVRpM/VCtVjdRVnVI/AAAAAAAADQQ/T0_5PzWLAYs/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B007.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br />make some swag,<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wC3TGEn_uNQ/VCtVmG8tkvI/AAAAAAAADQc/XyZy8jtVoD8/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wC3TGEn_uNQ/VCtVmG8tkvI/AAAAAAAADQc/XyZy8jtVoD8/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B003.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />repurpose stuff from around the house into fresh and relevant party decorations,<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0yhFB9AsVPo/VCtVk896eBI/AAAAAAAADQY/fSTKnommHcQ/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0yhFB9AsVPo/VCtVk896eBI/AAAAAAAADQY/fSTKnommHcQ/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B004.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />and call it good. &nbsp;Whabam! &nbsp;Party time.<br /><br /><br />I've also learned a thing or two about how much good teaching is like good party planning: &nbsp;plan every minute, then plan some extra stuff. &nbsp;I get teased for the schedules I write (and especially if I waver a minute or two off the timeline) but if there is a secret to my success, it's this. It's all about the party-time management. &nbsp;This time around, the party plan was as follows:<br /><br />12:00 - 12:15 - Guests arrive: &nbsp;Decorate aprons;<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-STAdyTGVMUg/VCtW8yXAgHI/AAAAAAAADRM/yIHFMOwg7tc/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-STAdyTGVMUg/VCtW8yXAgHI/AAAAAAAADRM/yIHFMOwg7tc/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B599.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />draw pictures of favorite food on poster board<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b3l4VOlms6Q/VCtVv0KNR8I/AAAAAAAADQo/fl4Hs7Ujxh8/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-b3l4VOlms6Q/VCtVv0KNR8I/AAAAAAAADQo/fl4Hs7Ujxh8/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B011.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />12:15 - 12:30 Assemble pizzas (crust; sauce; cheese; assorted toppings, including hot dogs)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-arT8l6Kbsnk/VCtXPHLqiwI/AAAAAAAADRg/J-_U8DI2yyc/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-arT8l6Kbsnk/VCtXPHLqiwI/AAAAAAAADRg/J-_U8DI2yyc/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B602.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />12:30 - 12:45 (while the pizzas cook...) Make fruit kebabs; listen to the story "Seven Silly Eaters"<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wx0ndLRhILA/VCtXRhfnkTI/AAAAAAAADRo/aCQT06L-I6o/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Wx0ndLRhILA/VCtXRhfnkTI/AAAAAAAADRo/aCQT06L-I6o/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B606.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br />12:45 - 1:05 Lunch on the deck<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dyBQFyrKS_Q/VCteR5LdPzI/AAAAAAAADTg/5nYdIKdg4qg/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dyBQFyrKS_Q/VCteR5LdPzI/AAAAAAAADTg/5nYdIKdg4qg/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B022.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br />1:05 - 1:40 Chef Stations: &nbsp;Sifting (flour);<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yZrcX9DM--s/VCtcgnRQQfI/AAAAAAAADTE/TQnoF06ViNU/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B634.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yZrcX9DM--s/VCtcgnRQQfI/AAAAAAAADTE/TQnoF06ViNU/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B634.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br /><br />Measuring (rice and cups, spoons, funnels, etc.);<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC2qddO1X4U/VCtcfsNeFbI/AAAAAAAADS8/HpJI7nKrI7w/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B647.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eC2qddO1X4U/VCtcfsNeFbI/AAAAAAAADS8/HpJI7nKrI7w/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B647.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><br />Rolling and Cutting (pie crusts; rolling pins; cookie cutters); and<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-16o1pl0jlWE/VCtW88K1ohI/AAAAAAAADRI/5gVBglx1WY0/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-16o1pl0jlWE/VCtW88K1ohI/AAAAAAAADRI/5gVBglx1WY0/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B596.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br />Pouring/Spinning (water with salad spinner, lettuce, various pouring and measuring containers)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PEz-eQuA76k/VCtcSqSKGRI/AAAAAAAADSs/B6ljPM8-Ztc/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PEz-eQuA76k/VCtcSqSKGRI/AAAAAAAADSs/B6ljPM8-Ztc/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B639.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br />1:40 - 1:50 Decorate cupcakes<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNLi5xWnS_Q/VCtcUHKn2XI/AAAAAAAADS0/Q6SVaNrJVWY/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B631.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNLi5xWnS_Q/VCtcUHKn2XI/AAAAAAAADS0/Q6SVaNrJVWY/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B631.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br />1:50 - 2:00 Let Them Eat (cup)Cake! &nbsp;And Voila! <br /><br />In addition to the fabric apron they decorated, each guest left with a goodie bag that included a wooden spoon, a basting brush, a cookie cutter, muffin tin liners, a picture of Chef Pax, and two recipes -<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VFHcRkTjX5Y/VCtW_hg6qVI/AAAAAAAADRY/DMrvgi_j_7A/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B576.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VFHcRkTjX5Y/VCtW_hg6qVI/AAAAAAAADRY/DMrvgi_j_7A/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B576.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />one for "With Scratch" Brownies, (best. brownies. EVER!) and one for homemade pizza dough:<br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Pax’s “With Scratch” Brownies</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">12 ounces (3 sticks) unsalted butter<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">2 cups cocoa powder, sifted<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">6 eggs<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">2 cups sugar<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">2 cups packed light brown sugar<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">2 tablespoons vanilla extract<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">2 cups flour<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">1 teaspoon kosher salt<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.&nbsp; Line a 9x13 inch pan with aluminum foil or parchment paper and spray with nonstick cooking oil spray.&nbsp; Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat.&nbsp; Remove from the heat and add the cocoa powder, stirring to combine.&nbsp; Let cool slightly.&nbsp; <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">In a large bowl, whisk the eggs together, then add the sugars and vanilla extract, stirring to combine.&nbsp; Add the cooled butter-chocolate mixture, then fold in the flour and salt until just combined; do not overmix.&nbsp; Spread the batter evently in the pan, making sure the corners are filled.&nbsp; Bake for 40-45 minutes or until a crust forms on the surface and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out mostly clean.&nbsp; Transfer the pan to a wire rack; cool completely before cutting the brownies.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbRDXuq7BDs/VCte4PEOp3I/AAAAAAAADTo/FqAHXpUscCM/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fbRDXuq7BDs/VCte4PEOp3I/AAAAAAAADTo/FqAHXpUscCM/s1600/Late%2Bsummer%2Bearly%2Bfall%2B457.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b>Pax’s Perfect Pizza Dough</b><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">3 3/4 cups flour<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">2 1/2 teaspoons instant or other active dry yeast<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">3/4 teaspoon salt<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">3/4 teaspoon sugar<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">1 1/3 cup room-temperature water<o:p></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">In a medium bowl, stir together the flour, yeast, salt, and sugar. Add the water and, using a wooden spoon or your hand, mix until blended, at least 30 seconds. The dough will be stiff, not wet and sticky. Cover the bowl and let sit at room temperature until the dough has more than doubled in volume, at least 2 hours. Divide the dough in two and shape each into flattened balls. (Dough can be frozen at this point.)&nbsp; When you are ready to make a pizza, preheat oven to 500°F roll out one ball of dough in a rectangular shape and place on an oiled cookie sheet. Top as desired and bake 15-20 minutes.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ij5sYQ5M4MA/VCtVz_q3GdI/AAAAAAAADRA/01CPUyOxr5A/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ij5sYQ5M4MA/VCtVz_q3GdI/AAAAAAAADRA/01CPUyOxr5A/s1600/pax%2Bparty%2B031.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;"><b>Bon Apetit! &nbsp;Happy Birthday, Pax!</b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-23124695602978199192014-09-11T21:46:00.001-04:002014-09-11T21:46:29.190-04:00Buried in booksWe're nose deep in books these days...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-__N1MMo1mOM/VBJHbBx4X3I/AAAAAAAADPk/MPR8llIBZiA/s1600/photo%2B(59).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-__N1MMo1mOM/VBJHbBx4X3I/AAAAAAAADPk/MPR8llIBZiA/s1600/photo%2B(59).JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>Here's a quick list of what we're reading (and loving!) on the Literacy Farm:<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Pax</span></b> can be found with a book in his hand more often than not. (See photographic evidence, above.) Latest favorites include:<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1423190874?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=1423190874&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">The Pigeon Needs a Bath!</a> &nbsp;(Mo Willems)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0375849793?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0375849793&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Clever Jack Takes the Cake</a> (Candace Fleming)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0439339111?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0439339111&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Zen Shorts</a> (John J Muth)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0545669936?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0545669936&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">These Minecraft books </a>(because he is a Minecraft savant.)<br />...and, endearingly, he still loves <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0763617105?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0763617105&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Owl Babies</a> (Martin Waddell). &nbsp;(Who wouldn't love it? &nbsp;The last line of the book is <i>"I love my Mommy," says Bill.</i>)<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Leo</span></b> reads on his own a good deal, but still loves (and prefers) read-alouds with his dad. &nbsp;Recently, they've read<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0064400557?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0064400557&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Charlotte's Web</a> (E.B. White)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0440414806?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0440414806&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Holes </a>(Louis Sacher)<br />...and are currently devouring <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0786838655?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0786838655&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">The Lightening Thief</a> (Percy Jackson Book 1, R. Riordan)<br /><br />(but if you're looking for the best-ever read-aloud for younger kids, the hands-down winner is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316038636?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0316038636&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Where the Mountain Meets the Moon</a> (Grace Lin)<br /><br /><b><span style="font-size: large;">Aidan</span></b> reads almost as much as I do. &nbsp;He's currently reading<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1423141997?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=1423141997&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Son of Neptune</a> (Riordan),<br />but other recent favorites have included<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0316003956?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0316003956&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">The Mysterious Benedict Society Series</a> (Stewart)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1416971718?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=1416971718&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Out of My Mind</a> (Sharon Draper)<br />and next on his nightstand is<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0312661045?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0312661045&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Charles and Emma</a> (Deborah Heiligman)<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>I </b></span>try to avoid reading more than one book at a time, yet I've found myself in the middle of three (!!) excellent books. &nbsp;I'm reading...<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0812973992?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0812973992&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Let the Great World Spin</a> (Colum McCann)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0812550706?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0812550706&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Ender's Game</a> (Orson Scott Card)<br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1587433621?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=1587433621&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">The (Un)Common Good</a> (Jim Wallis)<br /><br />My most favorite recent read, though, is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0670024783?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0670024783&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">The Invention of Wings </a>(Sue Monk Kidd)<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Jeff </b></span>has even found a few minutes of spare time between graduate class work to enjoy some pleasure reading. &nbsp;Aidan has been asking him to read his #1 favorite book, and Jeff was happy to oblige. &nbsp;<a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0375869026?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0375869026&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Wonder</a> by R.J. Palacio is nothing short of a true literary wonder. &nbsp;It is unequivocally the most important book a young person might ever read in his or her growing-up years. <br /><br />And finally, a book that the whole family is enjoying is <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0345549805?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0345549805&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Dinner: The Playbook</a> by Jenny Rosenstrach, the same author as <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0062080903?ie=UTF8&amp;camp=213733&amp;creative=393177&amp;creativeASIN=0062080903&amp;linkCode=shr&amp;tag=eauciuen0a-20">Dinner: A Love Story </a>(both cookbook and blog). &nbsp;Aidan, Leo, Pax, and I spent an afternoon earmarking recipes we'd each like to make (Aidan wants to make hoisin turkey burgers; Leo's going to make chicken chili and compare it to his favorite turkey chili, Pax decided on a new recipe for sloppy joes; and I want to taste her shrimp and grits recipe) while Jeff simply drools over the photos and asks us<br /><br />"How long until dinner?"<br /><br />"Not until I finish this book," one of us is likely to reply.<br /><br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-81045556237137456342014-08-20T22:24:00.001-04:002014-08-20T22:24:06.976-04:00Beginnings and EndingsOur dear friends Rick and Gretchen gave us a gift a few years ago that has become a dinner ritual most nights. &nbsp;This blessing bowl is an enhanced version of the "good part, bad part, silly part" of dinner conversation we've enjoyed for many years; the blessing bowl adds a little direction and reflection to the daily events of our lives. &nbsp;Each piece in the bowl is symbolic for something important: &nbsp;gratitude; kindness; valley highs; mountain lows; remembering; loss; sacred moments; beginnings and endings. Last week, the two pieces that were selected the most were the "beginnings/endings" piece, and the "sorrow/loss." &nbsp;To me, in the contexts in which they were used, the two are interchangeable. &nbsp;This past week, it certainly felt so.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OAXO2ZJkQWM/U_VH_m7meSI/AAAAAAAADNk/YQo7bAQRYuQ/s1600/photo%2B(58).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OAXO2ZJkQWM/U_VH_m7meSI/AAAAAAAADNk/YQo7bAQRYuQ/s1600/photo%2B(58).JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>Last week was the Beginning: &nbsp;of a new school year; of new opportunities; of trying new things; of a new season. &nbsp;We celebrated the beginning of the school year by shopping with Grandma for new shirts; going out to lunch with her and eating celebratory ice cream; meeting new teachers; packing up new school supplies; learning new bus routes, routines, and schools; choosing special dinners for the nights leading up to the first day; a last hurrah on the lake. &nbsp;<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bYyPWWyGrUQ/U_VS_fTjZpI/AAAAAAAADOA/r7PtHkV0QEc/s1600/August%2B2014%2B042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bYyPWWyGrUQ/U_VS_fTjZpI/AAAAAAAADOA/r7PtHkV0QEc/s1600/August%2B2014%2B042.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-clPz6V7lhoA/U_VTDHKZdaI/AAAAAAAADOI/aRc30hk2QIU/s1600/August%2B2014%2B015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-clPz6V7lhoA/U_VTDHKZdaI/AAAAAAAADOI/aRc30hk2QIU/s1600/August%2B2014%2B015.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><br />And yet as proud and happy as I was to have three children eager and excited to go back to school, it was also an ending. &nbsp;I felt keenly the loss of summer, of days that stretched before us without the constraints of time and schedule, of memories that I was largely responsible for creating, the ones my children store in their treasure box labeled Childhood. <br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The first days were very good, and the beginning of the school year - total success - was something to celebrate.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cBjLqK4oz68/U_VTQBL3IrI/AAAAAAAADOQ/tH8Zz3Tz69U/s1600/August%2B2014%2B089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cBjLqK4oz68/U_VTQBL3IrI/AAAAAAAADOQ/tH8Zz3Tz69U/s1600/August%2B2014%2B089.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oeAb3cMwaVU/U_VTd7ijUtI/AAAAAAAADOg/v03nGKCFyyo/s1600/August%2B2014%2B106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oeAb3cMwaVU/U_VTd7ijUtI/AAAAAAAADOg/v03nGKCFyyo/s1600/August%2B2014%2B106.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-01fL0mcBZ8w/U_VTY0ygOVI/AAAAAAAADOY/kzHE41fuCH4/s1600/August%2B2014%2B139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-01fL0mcBZ8w/U_VTY0ygOVI/AAAAAAAADOY/kzHE41fuCH4/s1600/August%2B2014%2B139.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>(Studious and ready for work at Preschool.)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kbEnbIldgtg/U_VTf67m1QI/AAAAAAAADOo/eEfyXwtJKrA/s1600/August%2B2014%2B149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kbEnbIldgtg/U_VTf67m1QI/AAAAAAAADOo/eEfyXwtJKrA/s1600/August%2B2014%2B149.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br />But then, at the end of the week, Jeff and I flew back to California to be with our family. &nbsp;We went to bid a final farewell to our beloved, Leo Vanoni. &nbsp;Hundreds gathered at the fairgrounds and lingered through the day - telling stories, sharing tears and laughter. &nbsp;"Family is everything and everyone is family," that's the motto by which Leo lived his entire, amazing, inspiring life. &nbsp;Leo's life philosophy didn't click for me until this farewell trip: Leo Vanoni was a man of great faith who quietly and humbly lived out that faith in every action he took. &nbsp;His heart was huge; his spirit, gentle and kind; his words and actions, loving and affirming. &nbsp;In death, he has awakened me to something new about him. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss1QAoiSPpE/U_VVQe2V4OI/AAAAAAAADPA/YRk4jlmwsvs/s1600/August%2B2014%2B207.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ss1QAoiSPpE/U_VVQe2V4OI/AAAAAAAADPA/YRk4jlmwsvs/s1600/August%2B2014%2B207.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The marquee at the fairgrounds says it all; dozens of photos cataloging a life well-lived; Leo's Fair Chair and hat; a gorgeous photo of Leo, holding an avocado, by his talented granddaughter Nicole Ennis-Brooks.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PJdaKmhBGoM/U_VVJLBWkLI/AAAAAAAADO0/zC21oyN-tRk/s1600/August%2B2014%2B197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PJdaKmhBGoM/U_VVJLBWkLI/AAAAAAAADO0/zC21oyN-tRk/s1600/August%2B2014%2B197.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jeff and I said our own private goodbye to Leo on this quiet stretch of the Pacific Ocean, opposite the fairgrounds. <br />Jeff and his cousins each wore a Bolo tie, one of Leo's own, as requested by Leo.</td></tr></tbody></table>As we made the exhausting flight home on Saturday night on the red-eye, eager to see our kids, I gazed out the window at the gorgeous, gorgeous moon. &nbsp;An ending.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WRnmHchWy28/U_VO7oC4fFI/AAAAAAAADN0/X8y9GwaEeDg/s1600/August%2B2014%2B167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WRnmHchWy28/U_VO7oC4fFI/AAAAAAAADN0/X8y9GwaEeDg/s1600/August%2B2014%2B167.JPG" height="228" width="320" /></a></div>Hours later, I watched the sun rise over the horizon, 3,000 miles from where I'd last touched ground. &nbsp;Beginning.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aVueq4Fw2RQ/U_VVQI0S8EI/AAAAAAAADO8/JNvP6e-wxdI/s1600/August%2B2014%2B212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aVueq4Fw2RQ/U_VVQI0S8EI/AAAAAAAADO8/JNvP6e-wxdI/s1600/August%2B2014%2B212.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br />Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6533343360915433559.post-83402017177135758412014-08-10T22:34:00.001-04:002014-08-10T22:34:17.233-04:00CA Adventure Part 3: Palm Springs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>During the bleakest days of February, when I am chilled to the core with no end of winter in sight, I dream of California. &nbsp;I dream of running through orchards full of tree-ripe avocados, lemons, limes... of wading into the cool waters of the Pacific... of lingering over memories and meals with family I'm lucky to call my own. &nbsp;And I dream of palm trees, hot, sunny days, cold, frothy drinks - and the time to spend with friends, and to savor it all. &nbsp;I dream of this:<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5aHZNrTxmro/U-gTPeaHrQI/AAAAAAAADLc/uVRV-RqjLbg/s1600/2014-08-05+001+422.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5aHZNrTxmro/U-gTPeaHrQI/AAAAAAAADLc/uVRV-RqjLbg/s1600/2014-08-05+001+422.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div>Our tour of Southern California would be incomplete without time to spend with our beloved friends, the Grants; the line between family and friends on this California adventure is very blurred, indeed. &nbsp;The boys picked up right where they left off last summer, when the Grants were in Virginia, and seemed more like brothers than ever before:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aCJpxocN73I/U-gTX7nFSXI/AAAAAAAADLk/OXO9IBnUVwM/s1600/2014-08-05+001+459.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aCJpxocN73I/U-gTX7nFSXI/AAAAAAAADLk/OXO9IBnUVwM/s1600/2014-08-05+001+459.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div>In Palm Springs, we held diving contests:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yIyzfzdXwT8/U-gSBCcwCUI/AAAAAAAADI8/NBubhkpH30w/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yIyzfzdXwT8/U-gSBCcwCUI/AAAAAAAADI8/NBubhkpH30w/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+440.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zU-Hg1lK39U/U-gSLIdJBrI/AAAAAAAADJk/x9YYBs8J32U/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zU-Hg1lK39U/U-gSLIdJBrI/AAAAAAAADJk/x9YYBs8J32U/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+491.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--NqyzkR22_A/U-gSUKhqq9I/AAAAAAAADKE/44VUPyZ_Xqk/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--NqyzkR22_A/U-gSUKhqq9I/AAAAAAAADKE/44VUPyZ_Xqk/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+539.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wtYpQwRp13c/U-gSVyi3l7I/AAAAAAAADKM/r5ss_cSFX1s/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wtYpQwRp13c/U-gSVyi3l7I/AAAAAAAADKM/r5ss_cSFX1s/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+538.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-va4hYYtAHIM/U-gSmUbyLAI/AAAAAAAADKw/8-DpUk84cqw/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-va4hYYtAHIM/U-gSmUbyLAI/AAAAAAAADKw/8-DpUk84cqw/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+606.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yzb6l3TTwOQ/U-gSnYbRn0I/AAAAAAAADK4/9RvXh1zLX7U/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yzb6l3TTwOQ/U-gSnYbRn0I/AAAAAAAADK4/9RvXh1zLX7U/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+609.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>...while the biggest boys worked to perfect their "<a href="http://www.leisuredive.com/">leisure dives.</a>."</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1OF5vKGacfQ/U-gTnQSUXUI/AAAAAAAADL8/Xa4QtiN1sIA/s1600/2014-08-05+001+455.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1OF5vKGacfQ/U-gTnQSUXUI/AAAAAAAADL8/Xa4QtiN1sIA/s1600/2014-08-05+001+455.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Um... I think you need to keep working on this, Jeff!</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XlUsyLQc-5Y/U-gTyWfL5fI/AAAAAAAADME/N3a5Hdl97eg/s1600/2014-08-05+001+497.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XlUsyLQc-5Y/U-gTyWfL5fI/AAAAAAAADME/N3a5Hdl97eg/s1600/2014-08-05+001+497.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Practically website-worthy...</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Meanwhile, Em and I made sure to stay well-hydrated...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-joidtdDgCy8/U-gTkP0ge7I/AAAAAAAADL0/KTjrbvcOcUY/s1600/2014-08-05+001+528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-joidtdDgCy8/U-gTkP0ge7I/AAAAAAAADL0/KTjrbvcOcUY/s1600/2014-08-05+001+528.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nPPXnzcV--E/U-gSOA0wudI/AAAAAAAADJs/UnEHJxp3PLE/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nPPXnzcV--E/U-gSOA0wudI/AAAAAAAADJs/UnEHJxp3PLE/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+528.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;...while a certain Carter child made sure to hydrate us from the OUTSIDE:<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XigFufjXlIg/U-gSTXzSSpI/AAAAAAAADJ8/EXZC1yzjmQ8/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XigFufjXlIg/U-gSTXzSSpI/AAAAAAAADJ8/EXZC1yzjmQ8/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+530.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Lest you think it was all fun and games, there was serious work to be done. &nbsp;Phone conferences were conducted:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3YG6JfEsano/U-gSG63UblI/AAAAAAAADJU/NwpOiPdEw7Q/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+473.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3YG6JfEsano/U-gSG63UblI/AAAAAAAADJU/NwpOiPdEw7Q/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+473.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div>...and important meetings were held:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N-0hLJe6pqk/U-gSIKQpzCI/AAAAAAAADJc/O2apoyUfoio/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+468.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N-0hLJe6pqk/U-gSIKQpzCI/AAAAAAAADJc/O2apoyUfoio/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+468.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHyOZvomq54/U-gSBIpFhsI/AAAAAAAADJA/6PDdU3bkRBA/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EHyOZvomq54/U-gSBIpFhsI/AAAAAAAADJA/6PDdU3bkRBA/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+464.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div>A train was formed to transport important cargo:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t0jLgFZf5tw/U-gSOV8EJDI/AAAAAAAADJw/Zob41OCXYwk/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t0jLgFZf5tw/U-gSOV8EJDI/AAAAAAAADJw/Zob41OCXYwk/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+517.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mj13f1s4cpc/U-gpCtJ2T0I/AAAAAAAADM0/RuSlb_r6z2c/s1600/2014-08-05+001+516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mj13f1s4cpc/U-gpCtJ2T0I/AAAAAAAADM0/RuSlb_r6z2c/s1600/2014-08-05+001+516.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>...but eventually, the work gave way back to play.</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZwtCYLQCY0/U-gTKsCumYI/AAAAAAAADLM/g25Fm7ZE908/s1600/2014-08-05+001+425.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZwtCYLQCY0/U-gTKsCumYI/AAAAAAAADLM/g25Fm7ZE908/s1600/2014-08-05+001+425.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We played nine thousand rounds of this game. &nbsp;Because it *never* gets old.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ngC4Pdr7AA/U-gSmH4xTDI/AAAAAAAADKs/3mh4qBAhyhQ/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7ngC4Pdr7AA/U-gSmH4xTDI/AAAAAAAADKs/3mh4qBAhyhQ/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+588.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This "all-play" relay was a huge hit with our crew! &nbsp;Kids v. Grown ups... and they beat us. <br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Wopo9hs-Do/U-gT0wTdeuI/AAAAAAAADMM/7S35shjwK8Y/s1600/2014-08-05+001+550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7Wopo9hs-Do/U-gT0wTdeuI/AAAAAAAADMM/7S35shjwK8Y/s1600/2014-08-05+001+550.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glo-sticks = fun times</td></tr></tbody></table><div>We decided on a formal group shot this year:</div><div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HdL9uJ1COQU/U-gSfKyhLvI/AAAAAAAADKc/8vfdsPZTOFo/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HdL9uJ1COQU/U-gSfKyhLvI/AAAAAAAADKc/8vfdsPZTOFo/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+541.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>&nbsp;...and clearly nailed it with just 57 takes!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JqkbHxP7G5E/U-gSfr-MefI/AAAAAAAADKg/NNf-Orr-pz4/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JqkbHxP7G5E/U-gSfr-MefI/AAAAAAAADKg/NNf-Orr-pz4/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+544.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div><div>When the nearing-the-end-of-vacation blues got us down, we embraced the motivational decor of the rental house and made it our own personal motto:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l7tO7lE1Zv4/U-gTMolMrNI/AAAAAAAADLU/IX3aXxDM_I0/s1600/2014-08-05+001+432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l7tO7lE1Zv4/U-gTMolMrNI/AAAAAAAADLU/IX3aXxDM_I0/s1600/2014-08-05+001+432.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><div>But then, seriously, we looked at these faces and felt happy again. &nbsp;The grown ups can claim a friendship of 14 years or so... but these boys? &nbsp;can claim it for a lifetime.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e43DLZAsudM/U-gSePdzKxI/AAAAAAAADKU/nmWWc-ixYgw/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e43DLZAsudM/U-gSePdzKxI/AAAAAAAADKU/nmWWc-ixYgw/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+573.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div>As I remind my kids from time to time, all good things must come to an end. &nbsp;After four days of respite, relaxation, and rejuvenation, we said a tearful goodbye to the Grants and began the long trek home. &nbsp;</div></div><div><br /></div><div>Remember that blissful day of travel we had out west? &nbsp;Yeah... not so much Eastbound. &nbsp;L.A. traffic is nightmarish, which we knew. &nbsp;But that morning, despite leaving 4 hours before our flight, we hit horrible traffic and crawled to the airport. &nbsp;We finally pulled up to the terminal 55 minutes before our flight was to depart. &nbsp;I unloaded all the bags and the kids, then Jeff dashed off to return the car. &nbsp;25 agonizing minutes later, he returned. &nbsp;I had to pretty-face my way through security and sweet talk them into letting us cut to the front of the line. &nbsp;(You can imagine how popular we were.) &nbsp;After making it thorough the checkpoint, we sprinted toward our gate, holding backpacks and Pax as I ran. I passed him off to Jeff at some point, then dashed ahead. &nbsp;As I made my way to the <strike>finish line</strike>&nbsp;gate, the friendly agent greeted us - "Oh, you must be the Carter family! You're here now, you can relax. &nbsp;We actually have a teeny bit of a wait." &nbsp;She checked us in, we boarded the plane - sweating, gasping for breath, and still recovering from our white-knuckled drive through L.A. - only to hear the pilot announce, "There is currently a 2 hour delay out of the gate. &nbsp;You are free to leave the plane."&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>We recovered; the plane finally took off; but the kids were grumpy, we were all so tired. &nbsp;There were no in-flight movies or television; it was a long 5 hours... with a few very beautiful moments mixed in:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n9pYgoPcaUI/U-gT2RIYzFI/AAAAAAAADMY/MbEq6nLLklw/s1600/2014-08-05+001+582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n9pYgoPcaUI/U-gT2RIYzFI/AAAAAAAADMY/MbEq6nLLklw/s1600/2014-08-05+001+582.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qtRHz7OF6WQ/U-gT7_2RPXI/AAAAAAAADMk/hPK2npLzWNE/s1600/2014-08-05+001+584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qtRHz7OF6WQ/U-gT7_2RPXI/AAAAAAAADMk/hPK2npLzWNE/s1600/2014-08-05+001+584.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Without prompting, Aidan and Leo journal-ed their CA adventures</td></tr></tbody></table><div>Once on Virginia turf, we eventually collected our bags (after much delay) and went to find our shuttle to the hotel where we'd left the car. &nbsp;With 15 people wanting 8 spots in the hotel shuttle, exasperated and exhausted, we hailed a cab and inched our way back to our car, which has never looked more inviting to me in my life. &nbsp;We hit up Wendy's drive-thru at 10:00 p.m., then made our way home. &nbsp;It was midnight when we pulled down our drive; nothing could have felt better that day.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><div>With the memories of our adventure playing on a continual track in our minds, we eased back into the waning days of our summer break, glad to be home again but wishing we were still adventure-ing...</div><div><br /></div><div>Till next time --</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DDi2edfkW0E/U-gpTy_CA5I/AAAAAAAADNE/9zcdBcpZ-NA/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DDi2edfkW0E/U-gpTy_CA5I/AAAAAAAADNE/9zcdBcpZ-NA/s1600/California+2014+Nikon+pics+357.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div></div>Anne Carterhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16516965735015658891noreply@blogger.com0